


Masquerade

by Ashida



Series: 15 a Piece Prompt Challenge [26]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Russian Mafia, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 93,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida
Summary: “Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was offering, and Yuuri was too selfish to say no.
   “Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn. ----   Spanish translation here.Italian translation here.Russian translation here.Thai translation here.





	1. This City Sleeps in Flames

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Masquerade — O Baile de Máscaras](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067225) by [IcarusDive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcarusDive/pseuds/IcarusDive)



> Now that we've seen a bit more confidence from Yuri's character, I don't feel so hesitant in posting this.
> 
> Part of a collection of 15 prompts given to me by [Hiro.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oninoshirosaki)  
> The prompts for this fic are [#200: Final Rush, and #149: I can't](http://insane-1.deviantart.com/art/200-Writing-Challenge-68163506)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One more nail in the coffin, one more foot in the grave. One more time I'm on my knees as I try to walk away. How has it come to this?_ \- BMTH

Yuuri knew he really _shouldn’t_ be here, not now, definitely not alone, not separate from his men at the hotel a good ten blocks from where he was _meant_ to be staying for the next few days, not in a place that wasn’t safe for someone like him, certainty not full of even more dangerous hopes that maybe he might find someone to spend the the night with.

The meeting he was supposed to be here for wasn’t scheduled for a few days, it certainly wasn’t scheduled to take place in a packed bar in an inconspicuous, un-talked about area of St Petersburg where foreigners never even thought to venture, let alone dared. It wasn’t meant to happen over hard liquor on the rocks at a bar crowded with Russians whose perception of volume and personal space was on the wrong side of different to his.

Yet here he was, stupidly treading on thin ice when it came down to it, as usual. It made him nauseous, sick with this feeling he couldn’t ever name, because here was this complete picture of his life with everything in full few apart from that one always absent puzzle piece he couldn’t stop thinking about - to the point where the rest of the puzzle wasn’t even fucking relevant anymore.

So he sat at the bar on his stool that had only the barest of wobbles and took it all in; it was a typical Russian crowd that Yuuri would never get used to even if he came here a hundred and one times, they were all happy and loud, raucous and overly enthusiastic with their drink, the air was shrouded with that cliché smoke that had no bias when it came to breathing room, it had this knack of fogging peoples inhibitions and judgment, it just hung there and loomed in wait until it could snake its smouldering tendrils into the next victim who’d had one too many shots.

There was a group of inexpensively suited men in the corner who looked to be sharing a quiet drink after work, their simple black jackets weren’t tailored quite right, their ties not quite silky enough, their shoes not as shined as they could be - businessmen and nothing more. No one there for him.

There was a mixed bag at the table next to them, casually dressed men in half open button down shirts and trousers, women with messy hair and nearly too tight jeans, all his age without a care in the world, all intent on drinking deep into their cups with the inebriated hopes of bagging someone to go home with for the night. So, no one there either.

Most of the noise came from a group of middle aged men determined to drink each other under the table, one with permanent grease stains on his calloused hands who would never be able to hide what he did for a living, one already on the downward slope to piss wrecked in another cheap suit and tie slumped on the table top, one with a tight t shirt and too much muscle than what Yuuri would call natural, he was eye balling the other men in the room every now and then like he had something to prove but didn’t quite know what it was. That was a usual night out between old friends, Yuuri guessed, and he wouldn’t find company from any of them.

There was the group of middle aged women all in the same office uniform keeping to themselves while sharing a bottle of red that was going down with astonishing speed, a pair of over-dressed lovers who could well use a room that were probably whispering sickly sweet nothings about getting married and growing old and everything that _normal_ lovers could do with their lives, there were the classic people who nursed their chosen brew in a quiet corner alone, the ones whose eyes told a story that Yuuri might have been interested enough in hearing one day if it weren’t for his own puzzle that he was much more interested in finishing.

Above all, they were people that Yuuri needn’t be concerned with, all people he could handle if he was pushed to. The group sitting directly behind his spot at the bar though, the largest group, the group of men with suits on that _really_ fit because they were indeed made for them, the men with ludicrously expensive watches that gleamed under their shirt cuffs coupled with large stones of onyx and diamonds on their fingers, the ones that lounged about as if they owned the place because they did indeed _own_ the place, the ones with loaded Beretta’s at their belts and not a shit given about who saw because their grouped owned much more than this little bar in a discrete corner of St Petersburg. He couldn’t care less for them either, Yuuri knew their type from too much experience, they might be a bit of a problem if someone who took his eye didn’t turn up soon, he felt the weight of their overly confident eyes on his back, it would only be a matter of time before one of them came to try it on, if Yuuri had someone to place a wager with, he would. Nonetheless, Yuuri stayed to wait.

The smoke cloud thickened as the empty glasses in front of him kept him loyal company, the hubbub rose and fell, and Yuuri wondered what category people put him in when they saw him. Not that it mattered, Yuuri could be anything here, and it was better for everyone if they all believed their own naive assumptions, the misplaced admiration of his suit that was as plain as the black and white fabric could be but more expensive than every outfit in this room, the curiosity placed in his styled back hair and calm visage, the quiet observation of the way he sat with solitude as his familiar drinking partner. _Much_ better for people to assume, Yuuri concluded.

It was sooner than what Yuuri thought it would be when one of the men from the table behind him pulled the bar stool next to him with an obnoxious scrape of its legs on the wooden floor, he pulled the seat pointedly Yuri’s direction and sat down with the obvious movement of making their thighs rub together under the counter. Here we go, Yuuri thought.

By nearly everyone’s standards he’d be considered attractive, bleach blond hair layered on a brown undercut, thick shaped eye brows with this 5 o’clock shadow on his strong jaw, he wore confidence better than he wore his suit, the glean in his hazel eyes said he was full to the brim with it.

“Looks like you’re in need of some company.” came the overly hot greeting as a glass of what he’d been having all night slid across the counter to stop in front of him, the stranger’s hand lingered on the bar only a mere second away from Yuuri’s own, bold with a touch of arrogance.

All Yuuri could do was sigh, clench his glass and take a breath before relaxing once more, he could feel the entire company behind him watching how this played out for their outgoing friend who thought he was god’s gift to one night stands, “Thanks.” Yuuri countered before continuing to drink from his own glass.

It was almost amusing to watch the man reassess his chosen pick up line, his browns pinched in puzzlement, before he laughed it off and leaned in a bit closer. “Don’t want to waste your drink? Fair enough.”

Yuuri returned the question with a shrug, “You could say that.”

He got another once over, eyes travelled up and down Yuuri’s slender body without any attempt to hide the fact, and if Yuuri wasn’t so good at playing this game then his jig would have been over then and there, “What brings you to St Petersburg then…?” an open question for Yuuri to add his name at the end, which sure as hell wasn’t going to happen.

Yuuri gave another shrug in his expensive suit, sinking into his fabric armour that had the stranger second guessing. “I guess you could say I’m here on business.” and he couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, because it was business he was here for and he hated that it was _always_ business that brought him to this point.

It was bad timing really, or suspiciously good timing on the stranger’s part, because Yuuri was already at the end of his own drink, and of course the air prickled with tension as he ordered another drink for himself instead of drinking the one he’d been offered.

The table behind him went silent, the man next to him leant closer still, his confidence clearly breached by something he hadn’t seen coming. “It’s rude to waste something someone has given you.” came the flat drawl in his ear that made Yuuri want to slam the man’s head against the bar top.

Things were escalating much faster than Yuuri had calculated, the barkeep was glancing nervously in their direction, he could hear chairs behind him from Mr Confident’s friends’ pushing out from their table. Not tonight, then. With an apologetic smile empty of all true apology; Yuuri pushed the drink back, “All yours then.”

Of course Yuuri wasn’t going to accept a drink he hadn’t see poured with his own eyes, he might have _looked_ vulnerable but he didn’t look fucking stupid.

That seemed to be enough of a clue that Yuuri might be an actual threat instead of this meek pray that’d walked into the lion’s den, the man was up off his stool, trying his hardest to loom at Yuuri’s back, “Now, it’s clear you’re here for a good-

“Chris, sit down and leave the man alone.”

It was then the Yuuri noticed how quiet the space around them really was, how rigid this Chris person had become at the sound of the smooth voice behind them, and so Yuuri turned to find someone who was exactly what he was looking for.

“Boss, he’s suspic-

“Sit down.” the flat tone left no room for argument at all, no room to question, only a fool would question a command as full of authority as that. Yuuri shivered.

For all Yuuri’s professional poise and calm, his breath betrayed him by seizing his throat, his skin tingled under his armour suit like it wanted to be free of the confines of that fabric facade, the new comer simply smiled at him, sat on the vacant stool and pulled himself close to the bar. “Causing trouble in my bar, are we?” the new man with silver hair that managed to glean even through the smoke cloud challenged loud and teasingly empty of any real threat. Yuuri could have laughed, he wanted too, he wanted to shirk off the stupid suit jacket and tie and let the man with open ocean eyes drown what was underneath, except all Yuuri really did was shake his head and buy another drink.

“Well that’s alright then.” and the man took a drink of something that’d been put in front of him by the barkeep the instant he’d sat down.

It seemed to please the table behind them enough for the hubbub to start up again, more quiet and full of listening ears than it had been but it would just have to do.

“You’re a sharp one.” came the quiet drawl as the new comer looked straight ahead at the numerous amounts of bottles stocked on the shelves behind the bar, from this angle Yuuri could see his sculpted jaw, his long silver eye lashes and the delicate curve of his lip, he could see his freshly trimmed undercut and the soft fuzz at the nape of his neck, he could see how the man’s collar fit perfectly around his neck, the perfect fit of his jacket on his built shoulders and across his chest, a suit just as simple and yet just as costly as his. True power never needed flaunting, Yuuri concluded.

“ _You’re_ sharp.” Yuuri couldn’t help but counter, and as lame as it was, it was true. It would always be.

That earned him a quiet, self satisfied chuckle, not arrogance but this boundless charisma that Yuuri found more intoxicating than the spirits he’d been drinking. “I know I am.”

That was it, they sat there drinking and the night wore on around them as they shared their drinks in their own pocket of space that people subconsciously gave them now, with each passing minute the suit that Yuuri had found comfort in before grew heavy, those minimal layers of fabric chafed at his skin, the silence between them was intimate, this private thing between them on display for all to see, Yuuri couldn’t stand it.

“Vic-“ he started.

“No names, too many eyes watching.” Victor’s grimace cut him off, the pain of stopping his own name being spoken from Yuuri’s lips after he hadn’t heard it for so long was visible with his drawn in brows and frustration-clenched jaw.

All of Yuri’s hard won self control, his well earned strength nearly left him as Victor leant over only a mockingly small fraction to slip something into his jacket pocket, a fleeting glimpse of the complete puzzle that Yuuri wouldn’t ever have. “Room 104 at my hotel two blocks from here, see you soon.”

It was always this way, walking away was always the worst because he’d been waiting so fucking long just to see him, but it was the only time he didn’t have to watch his back, because Victor did it for him for the entire length of Yuuri’s walk to the door, Chris eyed him with this smug distaste like Yuuri had just been dismissed by their boss, the other men made no effort to hide their lingering gaze as they watched Yuri’s graceful walk to the exit foyer.

It was already passed midnight, but as Yuuri caught Victor’s sharp gaze just before he passed through the doors to leave, he knew the night was only just getting started now. Those eyes were on him and him only, just as Yuuri always wished they could be.

The two block walk to the hotel Victor specified was long despite his steady pace on the empty footpath, street lamps stood sentinel on his walk, late night drivers and taxis sped passed with a hiss of tires every few minutes, but apart from that, Yuuri was alone. Without the driving force of Victor’s eyes on his back Yuuri felt like maybe he’d just give this all up and go back to his own lodgings instead, that was always going to be the end result no matter what happened in between, spending time with Victor was always just delaying the reality of his responsibilities, the mantle on his shoulders and the stark truth of his identity. It was fucking comical, because how could someone with as much money and power as him not have this one simple thing?

It was because there were people more powerful, more influential and more stupidly wealthy than him, and secrets were the best bargaining chips for people playing this game.

So he ended up in room 104 anyway, because the value of a day with Victor to Yuuri was worth something he couldn’t name, a momentary respite in his search for the ever missing puzzle piece, an end to that constant unease in his gut that said everything was wrong when nothing actually was.

He threw his access card onto the suite’s hallway table and kicked off his Italian leather shoes, and true to Victor’s powers of ever keen observation when it came to Yuuri; he’d chosen a room that made Yuuri feel like he was stepping into a different world from the one he lived in; a place where identity had no bearing.

The white panelled walls led up to gilded cornices and ornately painted ceilings, the carpet was thick and plush underfoot with Keshan rugs in flowering patterns and bright colours, the velvet curtains fell down to the floors and were all drawn shut, the furniture was all satin lined with curled wooden legs and overly puffy pillows with gold tasseled ends.

A suite fit for a King in another era, Victor really was ridiculous sometimes.

The bedroom was the same, a four post bed with damask patterned covers, about 57 bed cushions in different shapes and sizes, gold gilded lamps on the night stands, the bathroom had this enormous copper tub with clawed feet and sat right in the middle of the marble tiled floor, the twin shower heads in the corner were open to the whole room with only a glass panel to keep in the splash. The suite’s kitchen was stocked full of anything Yuuri could want, his favourite pocky that would have had to come from Japan, sake and a set of cups to drink it with, sushi and green tea ice cream and everything they’d ever eaten together before, which to his regret: wasn’t much.

Typical Victor indeed, he thought of everything.

Yuuri had no idea how long Victor would be though, or if he had to sort his men out after that potential scuffle, maybe he should have dealt with them himself after all to save them both some time.

So he ended up waiting on his own in the dead quiet of the lavish sitting room with his feet up, laying on the straight backed chaise lounge as he fiddled with the buttons of his jacket to get the stupid thing off, the suit was actually as comfortable as a suit could get, well tailored, a perfectly weighted fabric, not too tight around the shoulders or under the armpits, with room enough to hide things underneath when he needed to, which was every day of his life. His was a forced calm now, because if he wasn’t calm then he would be this pacing wreck who lingered by the door, desperate to see the only other person who’d be coming through that door any time soon. In the end he just ended up playing with the buttons even more, torn between taking the world off his shoulders or leaving it there so Victor could do it for him.

He couldn’t say if a minute passed or an hour by the time he heard the tell tale click of the suite door opening and promptly shutting with a resounding thunk of an extra lock and deadbolt, Victor was thorough too.

It always went this way, this desperate attempt at a casual encounter, Yuuri stayed at his spot on the couch and revelled in the sight of Victor coming into view from the short hall, he’d already kicked off his own shoes and pulled his tie loose and now he was working on the cufflinks of his jacket, and it was probably his everyday routine that wasn’t really anything significant or special to Victor, but Yuuri only got to see this twice, maybe three times a year if he was lucky. He’d never get tired of it.

“Welcome back.” Yuuri sighed, it was impossible to keep his smile in check then, to stop himself from getting off the couch to walk over to Victor who was doing exactly as he was; standing there in wonderment as he took in the fact that Yuuri was really there in front of him.

“Yuuri.” came the breath, and it wasn’t fair that the first thing that Victor got to say was _his_ name, how he said it like it was always on his lips, like he’d practiced in secret to get it rolling off his tongue perfectly, like he hadn’t been waiting to say it for all this time.

“You said no names.” Yuuri teased as he stepped in agonisingly close, chest to chest and hip to hip, and as familiar as he was with Victor, he still couldn’t help being shy.

“We’re fine now.” Victor teased back as he pulled Yuuri close, as he buried his nose in Yuuri’s hair and tickled his scalp with his warm breath and quiet chuckle. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You should be.” Yuuri breathed into Victor’s suit as he felt himself relax for the first time that night, muscled arms hugged him tighter, pulled him closer, and Yuuri would have been happy just to stay like this until he had to leave.

“You know I am.” and the way Victor’s voice cracked, the way it _broke_ because he wasn’t just talking about making Yuuri wait for a mere half hour or whatever the hell it was, it was just another thing that Yuuri hated about this whole charade.

That teetering on the edge of their pathetic woe was their cue to part, to start over and try to give each other a semblance of normal, the most electrified, testosterone charged version of normal that they could manage, anyway.

And so it always went like this too, he would help Victor out of his jacket and throw it on the nearest armrest, or table, even the floor, because taking his jacket off was menial compared to helping Victor unstrap the gun holsters across his chest. Yuuri would stand in awe for a few moments as he took it all in, that clean starched shirt with black leather straps that went under his armpits and crisscrossed on his back, the pair of discrete automatic glocks in their cradles and the way Victor stood there like they were apart of him, like the real picture of Victor Nikiforov - a young leader of one of the oldest mafia families in Russia - was only complete with a pair of weapons on his person. He was danger personified, he was aloof and ruthless, playful and also unforgiving, he was both risk and reward to Yuuri, and maybe that’s why he’d kept delaying the inevitable for so stupidly fucking long, because the reward outweighed the risk infinity fold.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken yours off yet.” Victor commented as the gesture was returned, careful hands pulled the jacket from his arms, tentative touches that lingered like heartbreak traveled up his chest as Victor’s slender fingers came to rest on the pair of automatic Colts in Yuuri’s own holsters.

“I… couldn’t be bothered.” Yuuri lied with his tongue in cheek, letting Victor do it was strangely important to him, no one else was ever allowed to touch his weapons, ever, so he felt like maybe if Victor did it he could fool himself, trick his walls into thinking that they weren’t needed after all, when the truth was he needed them most with Victor, _especially_ Victor.

Victor just laughed, his eyes sparkling with the fact that he always knew, “If you say so.” and so he took the guns from their cradles and placed them next to his own on the hotel suite’s kitchen bench, he undid Yuri’s buckles one by one and lifted the straps over his head.

“Better now?” Victor remarked as they were done, and it was better, that edge of hazard and chaos had dulled, they both looked like normal people like this.

“Better.” Yuuri confirmed.

Anyone would think after seeing each other so sporadically across the span of their affair that it would start with frantic kisses and urgent fucking where they both went forever, that cliche all night until the break of dawn sex that came when people spent so long apart, _too_ long apart in their case, but with them it was always this steady paced thing of getting to know each other all over again.

It was Victor winking with his stupid pretty eyes and leading Yuuri to the bedroom where they’d both fall on top of the still fresh covers and just exist as real people in each other’s presence, no feuds, no guns, and no set of rules that said that they must hate each other unconditionally. Victor would lay against the headboard of that expansive king bed and Yuuri would lean back against his chest and stare at the ceiling as they made pointless small talk that meant more than money to Yuuri.

Victor would grab his hands and play with his fingers while he asked how his day was, how was the flight from Japan, had he been eating properly, had he been sleeping enough? They talked about a movie that they’d both seen but not with each other, how they loved and hated the same parts and then they made stupid empty promises that they’d see the next one together when they both knew full well it was impossible.

 _This_ is what Yuuri wanted, he wanted this normal. This Victor who he didn’t have to hide away with, the Victor’s who’s boyish laugh shook his conscience, it shook his resolve and his judgement and made him think for an instant that maybe throwing it all away for this wouldn’t the most stupid thing he could ever do in his life. This Victor who was human and not this notorious figure of the underworld who was destined to be someone he’d always have to meet for tense negotiations where one wrong move could just fucking end it all. Yuuri hated his role in all this, the fact that he was so fucking good at his part in his own damn puzzle with that stupid missing piece.

And so they’d fall back into this pensive silence because neither of them really knew what to actually talk about, because if they talked about everything that they should talk about, about feelings and emotions and everything that made what they had real and not just what everyone saw on the outside looking in, then it would be too hard to keep walking away. It was hard enough as it was.

Yuuri was meant to be relentless once he’d made up his mind, firm in his ideals and unshakable in his resolve, it was why he was so good at his job, at existing in the world he lived in, but none of it fucking applied when it came to Victor Nikiforov.

“Victor…” Yuuri spoke in no particular direction, letting the sound of Victor’s name from his lips fill the dimly lit room.

“Mm?” and Victor squeezed him so fucking tight, like he didn’t know how to let go, like the only thing he wanted to do was to keep holding on.

“I can’t do this anymore.” and by ‘this’, Yuuri didn’t even know what he was talking about, this meeting in secret, this pretending, or this thing that he had with Victor that would eventually get them both killed.

Behind him, that warm chest cradling his back had grown deathly still, the chaos and edge that used to swirl between them when they just strangers on opposite sides spiked to hazardous levels, and suddenly Yuuri was on his back. Victor looked down at him with an expression Yuuri never wanted to see, anguish and heartache and Yuuri hated himself because Victor looked best when he had a smile on his face.

“What do you want from me, Yuuri?” the crack in Victor’s voice was glass on his skin, embers down his throat.

“Nothing.” _everything_ Yuuri told his half truths, because there was nothing Victor could give him apart from all of Victor himself, that was everything to Yuuri. Oh, Yuuri knew he was selfish enough to take Victor from the world, but it wasn’t something he could ever ask for.

“Just give me the word, Yuuri, and I’ll do it, I’ll run if you want to, give it all up if I need to, fight if I have to, just tell me which one and don’t _ever_ say you can’t again.” and it wasn’t fair for Victor to plead the exact words that Yuuri wanted to hear like that, to vow them into the crook of his neck with all the conviction of a man that could steal the stars from the sky and sweet talk the sun into his pocket, it was hot against his pulse and fire into his blood like that’s what really made his heart beat.

From anyone else it would seem like fucking lunacy, any one else but Victor. Victor who he’d known and admired him from afar since he was a kid, pointed out to him across this impassible divide fraught with betrayal and murder if he ever so chose to cross. Well, it was too late now, Victor had met him in the middle and now they weren’t just names to faces anymore.

“I can’t fool you, can I?” Yuuri sighed as he watched the smile inch back onto Victor’s face, because he could do it, could keep living his life with a person who was fast becoming someone he didn’t _want_ to live without.

Victor was stronger than him, strong enough to meet him in the middle like this, strong enough to say _’lets burn the world’_ , he was strong enough to bear the burden, all Yuuri needed to do was say it. Here and now, Yuuri thought that he actually could.

“You really can’t.” Victor teased, his eyes soft and full of all the things they never talked about, “Be my boyfriend, Yuuri, just for tonight. I know you want to.” and Victor hovered above him, caged him in and waited like he didn’t know what the answer would be, like this hadn’t played out so many times before. Yuuri wanted nothing more than to be Victor Nikiforov’s boyfriend, he wanted the world to fucking know that Victor was his and no one else’s, to the point where the greed nearly swallowed him whole.

“Ok.” Yuuri breathed. Watching the smile of pure boyish delight flash across Victor’s face was worth it every time, the way his eyes lit up even when Yuuri thought they couldn’t sparkle more than they already did, the glean of his white teeth and the dusting of pink on his cheeks that bloomed whenever Victor got excited. Victor couldn’t fool him either.

“Boyfriends kiss, you know.” came the hot suggestion as Victor’s eyes danced on the edge of wild.

“Do they?” Yuuri feigned ignorance, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

Victor’s offended gasp had Yuuri laughing before he could help himself, “You cheeky little… I’m _always_ your boyfriend, remember.” and Victor fucking Nikiforov pursed his lips in an actual pout, his blush deepened, and Yuuri just laughed some more. It felt so damn good to shed his skin with Victor, to take off his mask and let the real person underneath catch his breath.

Now that they were at this point, there really was no going back, not back to his room like he’d thought about earlier, not back in time to never meet Victor in a private space away from suspicious eyes and eavesdropping ears, not back to normal and in control like he’d once felt without Victor in his life. “Show me how boyfriends kiss then.” Yuuri wasn’t asking.

“As you wish.” and once again Yuuri could only revel in the satisfaction that Victor’s eyes were for him only as his one night boyfriend closed the gap and kissed him finally.

That’s when things got frantic, rushed and way too keen for people their age, because Victor’s mouth was on his, sucking on his tongue and nipping his bottom lip, the sound of their wet kisses filled the room, dirty, loud in the heavy silence , and then Victor’s deft fingers were at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one until he pushed it open and trailed kisses of fire up and down his skin in an effort to make up for so much lost time.

Those kisses trailed back up to his throat, across his racing pulse and behind his ear, “Take it off.” Victor tugged at his shirt as he whispered into Yuuri’s skin, “I want to see you.”

Yuuri was only half way done with Victor’s own buttons, which wasn’t fair at all because he hadn’t even got to see Victor’s body yet, his muscled lines of hard work and power despite his limber frame, the scar he had on his hip from when they’d gotten into a real misunderstanding with each other and Yuuri had drawn a knife on him, but he couldn’t ever say no when Victor’s tone was low like that, when it was full of unspoken promises and smouldering embers that were just waiting to set everything aflame.

So he sat up, half hard already, he let Victor peel his final layer away, off came his white shirt that was thrown somewhere off the edge of the bed, and it was only now that he started to get self conscious, where he wanted to bury himself in all those numerous pillows and _run_ , because the way Victor looked at him now was with awe and reverence like he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Yuuri could never think of himself that way, he wasn’t a good person, he was just as wretched and feared as Victor in his own way, and the traditional Japanese tattoos that went down from the rounded muscles of his shoulders and down to his wrists said exactly why.

Fujin on his right arm, the terrifying god of wind, and Raijin, the feared god of lightning and thunder on his left, both in a frame of red peonies and grey patterns of swirling water that covered every inch of skin. And as Victor turned him over, pushed him onto his stomach and kissed the skin between his shoulder blades with a touch so worshipping that it made Yuuri’s breath hitch; there was a giant twisting red dragon that went from the top of his thighs to the bottom of his neck, all highlighted with more peonies and traditional patterns of water and rocks that left no shade of flesh un-inked. It was true what Yuuri said before, true power never needed flaunting, and here was Yuuri’s, always hidden under his many layers of suits and masks.

A secret son of one of the most prevalent criminal families in Japan, the rites of his passage were engraved on his skin, the workmanship was remarkable, the art perfect in its depiction of an ever lasting fight for supremacy and family pride. Yuuri’s job was doing the dirty work, to clean up messes that others left, to negotiate and bargain, to let people think that the young man with the glasses that he wore for business, with his messy hair and plain suit was meek and easily manipulated, when he was anything but the simple underling that people thought he was.

They were just tattoos to Victor though, nothing else, no symbol of status or standing, that was how he saw the purity in them, Yuuri guessed. It wasn’t that Yuuri didn’t like them, it was just that that ink was so _heavy_ sometimes, something he couldn’t just shrug off like his suit jacket.

“It gets more amazing every time I see it.” Victor mumbled against his skin as he placed more kisses across his ink stained back, across the top of his shoulders on the dragon’s head, down its scales to the top of his pants where the rest of the creature disappeared under his belt. Yuuri was always so fucking relieved to hear Victor say that, he needed that reassurance, because it was always so easy for people hate him because of the art on his body, he was proud of these tattoos despite it all, and the fact that Victor liked them filled him with yet more pride.

That was always when Yuuri threw it all to the wind, when he let madness have his calculating resolve and jumped head first into his own storm for the last bit of his puzzle. Soon enough he was straddling Victor’s hips with his hands on his finally bare chest, kissing him for all he was worth, which was quite a fair amount, Victor would groan at Yuuri’s weight on his still clothed dick that was pushing at the inside of Yuuri’s thigh, he’d fumble at Yuuri’s belt with metallic clinks of the buckle and heated breathes against his lips, and Yuuri knew this would be over all too soon.

“I need to shower.” Yuuri would eventually say, and it was always just a cover for him saying he needed to prep himself properly because it had been so long, and Victor wouldn’t have them apart for one second, so they’d throw the rest of their clothes off in the giant bathroom with its marble tiles and copper bath tub, and they’d kiss under the scalding hot stream of a single shower head.

Victor’s firm, flawless skin slick against his was maddening, the friction he craved as they rubbed against each other lessened from the flowing water, which was just as well, because Yuuri would have come then and there and he wanted this to last as long as he could make it, this feeling like it was their first time every time they met.

“Turn around.” and Victor was panting now, his pupils as wide and as black as the abyss was deep, so he’d end up pushed against the cold shower wall with Victor on his knees behind him, dragging his teeth on the skin of Yuri’s ass and pinching at his thighs with unrestrained want.

“Fuck, Victor, hurry up.” - ’touch me properly, drown me, _leave your own marks on my skin_ that’s what Yuuri really wanted to say, to scream, except Victor already knew what he wanted, he always did.

The primal growl from Victor’s throat echoed his thoughts, and soon Victor had Yuuri whimpering with his face pressed helplessly against the wall, firm hands held his ass cheeks apart, and Victor’s hot tongue sucked against his quivering entrance that was begging for so much more.

Victor prepared him painstakingly slow, diligent step by step, Yuuri thought he already knew insanity, knew what it was like to lose coherency and thought because he’d seen, _made_ , other people lose themselves to drugs and fear, grief and despair more times than he could count, but Victor had this way of showing him what it really was. He sucked and licked and dipped his tongue in until Yuuri fucking begged for more, and then it was Victor’s chest against his back, heart thumping against his skin, coarse whispers of all the things they _shouldn’t_ talk about in his ear, and one teasing finger easing in and out of his ass, swirling around and burying itself up to the knuckle and teasing his sweet spot with light touches that incited true senselessness.

“If anyone else sees you like this, I will fucking end them.” Victor pledged as he added another finger at last, and Victor’s own impatience was coming through now, Yuuri could hear his own greed, his own selfish need to have Yuuri all to himself, if anyone else spoke to Yuuri like this, he’d slit their throat, and it was only because it was mutual, if Victor looked at anyone else like this then Yuuri probably _would_ burn the world and everyone in it.

It didn’t matter that they were still dripping wet, half covered in bubbles and selfish intentions, they were both clean in the places that mattered, Victor certainly didn’t care as he led them back to the bedroom and pushed Yuuri down and dried him off with the sheets, he didn’t care as he made Yuuri squirm with two, then three fingers in his ass and his teeth on Yuri’s skin. All Yuuri could do was twine his fingers in Victor’s soaking hair and roll his hips back against the fingers inside him, curling just shy of the place that would have him crumbling from the inside out.

“Just fuck me, Victor.” Yuuri eventually stuttered as he pulled Victor up to mash their lips together, to bring their chests flush and groins aligned.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Victor chuckled into his mouth, Yuuri would have given him a swat across the ears for that, for making him always ask, except all he could care about was the head of Victor’s throbbing dick pushing at his entrance, as it popped in passed the ring of muscle and slid in inch by inch until Victor was quaking above him, balls deep and moaning at the heat surrounding him.

“ _Fuck, Yuuri.”_ Victor whispered then, his breath coming faster and his persistent hand on Yuuri’s thigh gripping demandingly tight, he pulled Yuuri’s legs up higher, positioned the backs of Yuri’s tattooed thighs flush against Victor’s stomach with Yuuri’s calves on his shoulders and his feet in the air, and he rolled his hips in and drove himself deeper still.

It was lucky they were both so flexible, because Victor practically folded Yuuri in half as he lowered himself to kiss the last of Yuuri’s left control from his person. All Yuuri needed was Victor’s lips sucking back his moans, Victor’s tense body snapping his hips in and opening him up again and again, he wanted to feel the painfully pleasant stretch as Victor’s dick stroked his insides, as the head of Victor’s dick caressed his sweet spot and sent lightning up his spine.

He could hear himself urging Victor on, _faster, deeper, more,_ but he couldn’t control the words coming from his mouth between hungry open mouthed kisses and wrecked breathing. Victor gave him everything nonetheless, everything that Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to ask for, he gave him more sweet nothings of things that he’d aways wanted to hear, more promises of someone who _would_ steal the stars and give him the sun in his pocket.

It wasn’t one of those cliche hollywood scenes at all, they’d spent most of the night being human with each other, but the sun was still trying to invade their time together by glowing in through the edges of the velvet curtains as it came up with the dawn, with a few more desperate kisses, more unrelenting snaps of his hips, Victor had Yuuri falling to pieces as he slammed against the spot that had the stars in his vision shining brighter than the sun’s attempt to uncover their secrets. He held on, clenched down around Victor’s thick, full dick in his ass and didn’t fucking let go until he felt the tell tale warmth of Victor losing it inside him, those powerful hips stuttered, his body shuddered, and Victor crooned his name as he came in drawn out thrusts of pleasure.

The come down from this delirium was always full of too soft kisses and crazy beating hearts, they were still damp from their damn shower, they’d need another one now, foreheads slick with sweat and cheeks flushed with bliss bumped together, it was clumsy and sweet and like something normal partners did, Victor just hummed in satisfaction, he let the sound vibrate deep into Yuuri’s chest, and without a doubt Yuuri knew he should have come here tonight after all.

“Stay for breakfast?” Victor hummed between kisses along Yuuri’s tattooed bicep.

“Yeah.” Yuuri’s men could wait for him a little bit longer, he still had one more day until his meeting.

* * *

They played their game of normal for that morning, Yuuri with his shirt off, his coloured skin free to breathe, always, _always_ watched by Victor’s unfathomable eyes, their weapons stayed on the kitchen counter, forgotten in this intimate time between them with the curtains still shut so their secret couldn’t escape. They made each other coffee and still had to ask if the other had milk or sugar, they ate bacon and eggs for breakfast and talked about everything except work, they pretended to make plans for the weekend even though the weekend for them would never come.

Then it came down to helping each other get dressed in muted silence that spoke volumes more than any words ever could, Victor tightened the buckles of Yuuri’s holster straps with practiced fingers and slipped his weapons back into their cradles, he helped Yuuri into his jacket arm by arm and just watched as the person he’d known for the night vanished before his eyes.

This was without question, the part that tore Yuuri to shreds inside every time, they shared one last kiss in front of the door, exchanged a fond smile with eyes that lied and said ’ _stay.’_

“See you soon, Yuuri.” Victor said his name for the last time until they met in secret again, like it was this gift that he’d keep close to his heart always, and this really was the worst, walking away from Victor _again_.

“Yeah, see you, Victor.” It was the only time he didn’t have to watch his back, because the weight of Victor’s glacial blue eyes on his back was enough for him, that was until the door closed behind him and he was left bereft with his own silent walk down the hallway to the elevator, out through the quiet hotel lobby and all the way back to the hotel where he should have been with his men all night.

* * *

The next day, Yuuri was exactly where he should be, in a discrete warehouse where his meeting was going to take place at a quiet corner of the docks where even Russians never dared to venture unless they had a death wish. He had a handful of men at his side and his weapons ready under his jacket, though he knew he wouldn’t need them at all.

Outside, sounds of port activity sounded around the building, the incessant beep of reversing forklifts, people shouting in the Russian tongue that Yuuri had been trying to learn in secret. Inside the warehouse was stacked high with shipping containers, rust covered, scratched and dented from many trips overseas and back. They loomed up to where chains on their booms hung above in watchful silence.

Once again Yuuri was waiting, waiting for a group of people to show up who he’d been sent to negotiate with because they had something - weapons as usual - that his group wanted, and his superiors knew that if anyone could get it, it would be Yuuri, even if it was from a group who they’d been at odds with since before Yuuri even existed.

Yuuri was glad to be sent really, because it gave him an excuse to see _him_ , Victor Nikiforov as he walked in through the open roller doors with the midday sun streaming down behind him and his own handful of men. Today he was wearing a flawless black trench coat atop his impeccable suit, he strode in fluid steps with his hands in his pockets and a cold mask on his face that wouldn’t let anything in or out. Victor’s eyes were still only on him though, just as they should be, and it really was fucking lucky that they were both so good at this game, because their jig really would have been up then and there if people really _understood_ the intimate silence that passed between them.

Victor’s steps clicked to a halt in front of him, and Yuuri wished he could stop his heart from fucking beating like crazy in case someone did hear it.

“Lets cut to the chase, Katsuki.” Victor drawled, cold and impassive, full of threat and intimidation that Yuuri would take seriously if he didn’t see the split second smirk on Victor’s lips.

There was no ceremony about it, Russians were coarse and abrupt and there was no need for formalities, greetings and pointless offers, so Yuuri pulled the offer slip from inside his jacket pocket and laughed to himself as Victor stood perfectly still while his men flinched with the thought that Yuuri might be pulling a weapon.

He stepped up measured and slow, to stand in front of Victor with the men from both groups watching them, handed over the folded slip of paper in silence and tried not to let his suit chafe at his skin with Victor standing there so close.

“You can’t even say what you want from me out loud?” Victor berated for all to hear, Yuuri felt the knife twist in the place where it hurt the most, and he could see the turmoil in Victor’s eyes as they pretended to skim across the paper. “Not even close to what I want.” and suddenly Yuuri couldn’t register the sounds going on outside around the warehouse, he couldn’t _comprehend_ the divide he was forced to look at right at that moment, all he could see was Victor’s whole hearted conviction that was flickering with an all consuming fire.

“What do you want, then?” and Yuuri knew he shouldn’t be here, knew he shouldn’t have been sent, because all he wanted to do, as he’d always wanted to, was drown in the depths of Victor’s eyes.

“You know what I want, Yuuri.” Victor let his secret slip from his lips, he said his name in that way that only a lover could for all in the building to hear, and Yuuri could hear the flames beginning to roar as Victor’s eyes pulled him in.

“Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was _offering_ , and Yuuri was too selfish to say no.

“Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr! [here](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com)


	2. Reveries of Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cause this is not enough, and I won't wait for them to cut me up. So give me all you've got. They'll never stop until they see us fall. So let's run_ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against my better judgement, I have decided to continue this, whoops.
> 
> Also thank you so much to Oxytrezart for some doodles of the first chapter, [find it here](http://oxytrezart.tumblr.com/post/154225918492/masquerade-by-captain-erwinmerica-is-a-good-good)

Yuuri could feel Victor’s smile against his lips as they kissed amidst the stupefied silence of the warehouse, outside the world carried on like it always would, with beeping forklifts and the incessant screech of seagulls that hovered above the port in search of food or some shift worker to annoy. He could feel the _tremble_ of Victor’s hands in his, could feel the sweat on his palms mingled with second thoughts and regrets, and in that instant Yuuri thought maybe he’d asked for too much after all, because it was true that Victor stood to lose so much more than him. 

Before his stomach could drop, before he felt pain twist in his chest that would hurt much more than any knife under the ribs; Victor pulled away and that life saving smile was still on his lips, he had eyes more wild than any storm Yuuri had ever seen, alive with blue fire that pulsed with hunger and adrenaline, and those trembling hands squeezed his not with regret but with _excitement_ because they were really doing this after years of slinking around in the shadows for so fucking long. 

“ _Let’s run, Yuuri._ ” Victor whispered with more conviction than what any sane person knew what to do with, the sort of conviction that could terrify the sky, make the stars know fear, could make the sun and moon shiver, because now even they were within reach. Instead, Victor just cracked a boyish grin and chuckled, and before Yuuri could do anything, that trembling hand was already twining itself into his fingers to lead him away from the shadows and out into the sunshine so that the world could finally know their secret. 

The look on each of their men’s faces was priceless, they left fully grown adults in sophisticated suits with guns locked and loaded standing there with mouths open and not a clue what _anyone_ should do because they were meant to be taking orders from the very people that were deserting them, all Yuuri could do was laugh as they kept running, he didn’t know where they were running, what they were going to do when they got there, or how long they had until the shit really hit the fan, and he didn’t care because that look on Victor’s face really was everything he’d wanted after all. 

Victor obviously knew where he was going, they wove in between giant sheds and looming shadows, they dashed passed moving machinery, they tripped on uneven concrete with their Italian leather shoes that were built for anything but running, and then they found themselves both laughing and breathless in a deserted building at the other end of the port, it was empty of containers and machines, void of people apart from the two of them and a black station wagon with tinted windows and polished mags parked right in the middle of the immense space which smelt like stale rain water and age old dust. 

“You planned this from the beginning!” Yuuri exclaimed as Victor stopped and took out a set of keys from his coat pocket, just when Yuuri thought Victor couldn’t surprise him any more than he already had, he proved Yuuri wrong yet again.

“I started planning the moment I knew it was _you_ coming.” Victor drawled his admission, and Yuuri was pulled in close then as they stood in front of the get away car, there was a split second of hurt on Victor’s flushed face, the anguish Yuuri had always sensed deep down whenever they were together, vulnerability and heartbreak at everything they couldn’t have and the inability to express it. 

“I couldn’t watch you walk away from me again one more time.” came the grave vow, it was with that that Yuuri knew Victor would have made today go his way no matter how much blood might have been spilt, and if it meant protecting Victor and those ambitions then Yuuri would have spilled even his own to give Victor what he wanted too. 

“But,” Victor smiled, and it was devious and full of smug satisfaction this time as he took in their empty surroundings and the fact that they were both unscathed, “I would have done this sooner if I knew I’d get to hear you laugh like that.” Victor’s warm breath tickled Yuuri’s knuckles as he chuckled and kissed each of his fingers one by one, and still he never took his eyes off Yuuri for a moment. He probably never would from now on. 

“Are you really sure about this, Victor?” Yuuri couldn’t help but ask even though it was already too late, there would be no such thing as becoming the head of the family now, no family assets and none of the protection that accompanied the mafia and Nikiforov name. Yuuri’s own selfish needs and wants soared with pleasure at the thought that he was the one that Victor was throwing it all away for, but years of doubts and overthinking wouldn’t vanquish the unease so completely.

With that, Victor spun Yuuri in an extravagant twirl and pulled him back in with ambition in his very breath, “And are _you_ really asking me that, Yuuri, when it’s you I’ve been waiting for all this time.” Victor teased him now, his words playful and antagonising like he’d been waiting to pull this crazy stunt his entire life. “More importantly, what about you?” 

Because they’d never really had time to talk about the reality of their positions, Yuuri only knew what he knew because _everyone_ knew what Victor Nikiforov was to the mafia. Yuuri, on the other hand would have to fight if he wanted to take over his organisation, even though he was his father’s son, succession wasn’t that simple. It was only in the recent years that his father had revealed the truth that Yuuri was his son to a select few, it didn’t automatically make anyone think he was worthy or that he could even do it, he would always be seen as Yuuri who was only good at making deals and forcing people to pay their dues. 

No, succession for him would be just as murderous and messy as what running away with Victor would be, as far as Yuuri was concerned this would _always_ be the better option, the only option now, and he told Victor as much. 

Victor just frowned in thought through his entire explanation, and when Yuuri finished he barked a laugh in amusement, it was loud and full of the charismatic confidence that Yuuri had been drawn to in the first place. “Well then, why don’t we show everyone how wrong they are and surprise them together instead?” and only Victor could propose to take on the world with just the two of them and make it seem like they were already on top with everything at their feet, because nothing was more exciting to Victor than doing the unexpected, and this was the most unexpected of all. Yuuri should have fucking known from the beginning that Victor wanted this. 

“Please watch my back from now on.” Yuuri gave his answer the only way he knew how, and in return he would be sure to protect Victor too, it would be easy, because he wouldn’t have to fake it anything now, he could throw his mask away with the surety that Victor was really his. 

The hug that enveloped him then was like falling and finding yourself a place to call home, it was tight and secure and like no hug Victor had ever given before, because they’d always had to hug goodbye, this time though, there wouldn’t be any goodbyes ever again, only forever or until death wrenched them apart, which was a very real possibility. 

“Always, Yuuri.” Victor’s words traveled down the skin of his neck as they stood there in a tight embrace, and Yuuri knew he wouldn’t ever regret this.

It was two heart beats after that that they heard the distinct sounds of gun fire and angry shouts in the distance, 3 heart beats when they pushed away from each other with their pulses thumping in sync, and then the fire was roaring. He could see the quicken of Victor’s breath, could see the curl of his lip as it turned into a smirk, Yuuri felt the sky tremble in reply, felt his blood run hot and cold with the power of Victor at his side.

And they ran. 

* * *

The drive was erratic and senseless in its direction, Victor took random corners and back tracked more than a handful of times, Yuuri sat in the tense electric silence next to him with his eyes peeled, his hands steady on the assault rifle in his lap because Victor really was %120 prepared, there were weapons enough for war in the boot, kevlar vests, cold hard cash, clothes and supplies for the both of them, new phones which couldn’t be tracked, water, non perishable food, petrol, - everything they needed to drop off the face of the world. 

Yuuri couldn’t have planned this better himself, and as they left the city and found themselves on an open road heading into the hills of St Petersburg he felt his excitement rise as Victor smiled with a snarl on his lip and put his foot flat to the floor, the engine roared to life and the car lurched, his head shot back into the head rest, and all Yuuri could do then was revel in the rush of acceleration. 

It was only half an hour of winding rounds and drifting around corners, half an hour until they emerged on a road that over looked the coastline and led to a cottage on a hill, it was innocent and inconspicuous with tiny shrub gardens, white weatherboards and a grey slate roof, and if Yuuri wasn’t so preoccupied with his thoughts of Victor then he would have noticed how it had clear views of the road in both directions, how there were two gravel driveways to exit the house from incase one was blocked, how Yuuri could look out from in front of the property over the ocean and see the edge of the world. 

Even though before this they’d endured months of agonising distance, weeks and weeks without a word to each other, that half an hour in the car had been too long for Yuuri this time, and it was him leading Victor to the house before they could even unload the car, it was Yuuri snaking the keys out of Victor’s hands and fumbling at the lock of the back porch before Victor snickered at him from behind as he stood there cradling Yuuri’s back with his chest. Victor gripped at Yuuri’s hips with mocking fingers as Yuuri kept using the wrong key again and again, and he should have let Victor do it after all, because Victor nipped at Yuuri’s neck then, hungry with sharp teeth and teasing lips, “Are we in a hurry, Yuuri?” 

It was as the tension spiked in his gut with Victor’s words that Yuuri finally found the right key, as he fucking snapped inside like he hadn’t snapped in the longest time that the lock clicked and the door swung open, and before Victor could make good on his teasing, he had Victor by his ridiculously soft silk black tie with paisley embossed patterns, pushed down and pinned against soft carpet with the door still wide open behind them.

But Victor started laughing all over again, and just like that the dreadful knot of tension that came with life and death situations dissolved in the sound, undone by the reflection of cloudless daylight in Victor’s cobalt eyes as he wrapped his arms around Yuuri and squeezed the air from his lungs with all his strength. “We have all the time we want now, Yuuri.” Victor whispered as he drew Yuuri’s head to his chest, and he’d never _really_ listened to Victor’s heart before, because it only made Yuuri acknowledge how delicate a human life really was, how easy that steady rhythm was to snuff out with just a word. This time, Yuuri forced himself to listen, to hear the thump of Victor’s existence that was strong and consistent, just like the person itself, but it was still racing like it didn’t know they were safe for now, and that’s when he realised that Victor was still squeezing him so _so_ tight as they lay on the floor with the sun warming Yuuri’s back. 

“You know, I made sure everything was ready for this.” Victor spoke aloud more to himself than to Yuuri, his voice a solemn, lonely sound, like he always talked to himself because silence was the only thing that would truly heed him, but it was Yuuri who heard him this time, grateful for the rumble coming from deep within his chest paired with the cadence of his heart. “But I don’t know what I would have done if you’d left me standing there yet again.” 

That’s about when Yuuri felt worse than the bottom of the gutter types that he had to dispose of, because Victor Nikiforov who wasn’t scared of anything or anyone, who could could put someone in their place with just a glance, whose power was unquestionable and would always be; had been _afraid_ , he’d been shaking because he thought Yuuri was going to do what he always did and walk away, or do what he did last night and say that he couldn’t do this anymore, and Yuuri had been too selfish about this, too absorbed in his own misgivings to think that maybe Victor might have some of his own. 

Yuuri pushed himself up before he spoke, caged Victor in between his palms planted on the ground and looked down at him with every ounce of determination he had, “Victor, I won’t ever walk away again.” and there wasn’t anything as menial as a promise that needed to be made, because if Yuuri said he was going to do something then he would, it was that simple. 

Victor knew it too, his smile said it all, “That’s more like it.” 

* * *

They brought in the basic necessities and got their bearings in the house, Yuuri wandered through the rooms noticing that each of them had a vantage point window to aim a gun from, or a free standing wardrobe to lurk next to incase you needed to ambush someone, everything was set up for a defensive war or a fast escape, Victor had been as thorough as anyone could be, but he’d also been as lavish as he’d always been with his tastes. Beds took up the majority of the space in each of the three bedrooms with endless white bedspreads and soft down pillows that you could easily get lost in. Everything from the white panelled walls to the plaster cornices was impeccable, but it was lifeless, and Yuuri knew it was because they wouldn’t be here long. At his guess, they had a week at most before they should move on, before they should talk about establishing something new with the both of them, because the only way they would ever be free was if they did indeed surprise the world and make them realise that Victor and Yuuri were better off left alone. 

He felt for the steadfast weight of his weapon in his holsters, made sure they were fully loaded and that he had more ammunition clips in his jacket pocket, he felt for the switch blade he kept up his sleeve, and Yuuri knew he would be ready for anything. 

It was as he was looking down at the guns in his hands that Victor found him, and Yuuri turned to see him humming to himself with hooded eyes as he watched from the doorway with loosely folded arms, his own trench coat and jacket had been thrown somewhere already, and he stood there in all his holstered glory with the top of his buttons undone, the personification of swagger and suave.

“Do you have a gun in your pants too? Or are you just happy to see me?” Victor quipped with a wink, and Yuuri had fucking _forgot_ that he was an actual dork sometimes, capable of saying cheesy pick up lines like he was %100 serious. 

“Really, Victor?” Yuuri deadpanned.

“Really.” came the urge for Yuuri to play along, he could see the playfulness in Victor’s eyes, _feel_ this new tension in the air because it looked like Victor didn’t mean what he said about how much time they had. 

“It’s a gun, I’m not happy to see you.” Yuuri teased. 

“You’re lying.” Victor drawled because his switch had flipped, he eyed Yuuri like he was hungry, and Yuuri was the only thing he’d ever wanted to eat.

Only Victor could thrill Yuuri with just a look, could send his pulse into overdrive and make him forget everything else in the entire world in that moment, maybe it was because his entire world had finally been reduced to Victor anyway. 

“Prove it then.” and Yuuri dropped his weapons on the bed in surrender, stood with his knees against the mattress, his arms in the air, and waited with the weight of Victor’s attention focused on him.

He heard Victor’s breath catch from across the room at that, heard his soft footsteps across the carpet, felt the warmth of Victor’s breath on his neck as he came to stand at Yuuri’s back. 

“I’m not going to wait for you to ask anymore, Yuuri.” Victor kissed the words against his neck as he wound his arms around Yuuri’s body, hands splayed against his chest as he pulled their bodies flush.

“Good,” Yuuri craned his neck back and mumbled into Victor’s jaw as their last layers fell away, as restraint and self preservation crumbled, as their possessiveness over each other took over, and the face of greed and lust and full blown _obsession_ finally revealed itself. “Don’t hold back.”

“Fuck.” and Victor groaned as he let his control go for the first time Yuuri had ever seen, that tumultuous storm in his eyes was taking over to drown them both. 

All Yuuri could do was follow and feel as he was swept away, as Victor disregarded the way they’d ever done anything before and let years worth of urgency and desperation have their say with the curtains open to the dazzling view of the ocean out the front window. 

Victor had Yuuri turn around with his back pressed against the mattress in no time flat, he was nipping at his his bottom lip, sucking at his neck, biting at Yuuri’s chest through his still clothed chest as he worked at the buckle of Yuuri’s belt and the fastening of his pants. Victor was wasting _no_ time for once, and for that Yuuri was fucking glad. 

Yuuri looked at the sight above him, the vision of Victor Nikiforov who’d lost his self control, and it was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen. Hair disheveled, tendons taut in his neck, his breathing wrecked already, cheeks flushed and his eyes dark with all his unspoken desires, this was the Victor that he’d always wanted to see, the one who wouldn’t wait for Yuuri to ask. 

Victor left their shirts on for the first time, holsters still strapped in place, Victor’s guns still loaded and ready, there was no finesse as Victor kissed him rough, as he groaned again because he was _too_ impatient now, as he grumbled ‘fuck it’, undid the buttons on his pants and settled his weight in between Yuri’s legs to rut his hips down with his teeth dragging across Yuuri’s pulse. 

And Victor was _heavy_ , his weight heady, his back muscles tense under Yuuri’s fingers as they dug in through the soft white fabric to urge Victor on, because they were allowed this, allowed to do things their own way, allowed to indulge each other in something as messy and half assed as the rutting of their bodies to get each other off. 

All it took to have them both coming undone was for Yuuri to reach down between them and take them both in his hand as they rolled their hips, Victor sighed his name as his body shuddered, as he lost rhythm and spilled into Yuuri’s fist unashamedly fast, his kisses lazy on Yuuri’s neck as Yuuri followed suit because hearing his name like he was worshipped would always do that to him. 

There was no rush to clean up and fall into melancholic aftermath, or make fake plans and play pretend, Victor sat back on his knees and looked at Yuuri, the blossoming colour on his neck and the sticky mess on his shirt, his swollen lips, and Yuuri could see the smirk in his eyes before it was on his lips, “You lied.” 

“No shit.” Yuuri laughed and looked down at the state he was in, there was cum on a leather strap of his holster, drying on his stomach, in the fine hairs of his groin, he was a mess. 

Victor didn’t care though, not as he finally did things in reverse order and unbuckled the straps across Yuri’s chest and under his armpits, as he lured Yuuri up with kisses to lift the holster over his head and throw it aside, as his gentle hands wrapped around Yuuri’s wrists to guide him to do the same. 

And when their shirts were off, Victor sighed again as he looked down at Yuuri’s colourful skin, he took Yuuri’s hand and nuzzled into his palm moments before he started kissing at the tattooed skin of Yuuri’s forearm, and this was the part where time stopped altogether for Yuuri.

Victor kissed his way up Yuuri’s arm, adoringly across his chest with soft lips and warm breath that left a trail of goosebumps as the moisture dried, he kissed all the way down Yuuri’s other arm before he turned him over and devoted himself to each of the dragon’s scales spanning his back, hundreds and hundreds of fierce kisses down his body to his thighs, until there were none left and he was kissing each flower petal instead, until he was done with that and he moved onto Yuri’s various scars like he’d never done before. Victor was taking _his_ time now like he’d always wanted to, because now it wasn’t confined to a mere amount of hours in between the worlds of their own.

Even for all the amazing sex and heartbreak they’d given each other, this was the most overwhelmed Yuuri had ever been with it all, because only now was he just coming to grips how precious he was to Victor, how Victor scowled at each little scar before trying to kiss it away, how Victor growled at the unmistakable puckered skin of a bullet entry scar on his stomach and pressed his forehead against it like his will alone was enough to make it go away, and really, they shouldn’t be in this deep given their profession, this invested in each other, because there were things a lot worse than heartbreak that they’d have to go through alone if they ever happened.

Yuuri had very nearly already put himself through it, he realised as he took his turn to map out Victor’s near flawless body, if not for the 6 inch scar that went from the bottom of his belly button to the divot of his hip, he kicked himself internally for that blunder all over again, it was the worst scar Victor had, one that would have been life ending if he hadn’t subconsciously held back.

“Remember that time I nearly killed you?” Yuuri pondered as he lay on his side with Victor flat on his back next to him, he ran his fingers along the silvered skin that’d knitted tidily together because he’d stitched it himself after dragging Victor to the hotel room they’d promised to meet in that day in Hong Kong.

Victor’s smile said it was all forgiven, that was the only time they’d ever walked together to a hotel, they’d held hands down a shadowed alley in the dark maw of night and been ambushed by a pack of gangsters who were too stupid to get a visual of their target in the dark before attacking. 

It’d been so early in their relationship, when tensions were still high and they were in for the thrill of it more than anything else, Yuuri hadn’t brought himself to trust yet, and he thought it’d all been a set up, so wild with betrayal had he been that he’d snapped, he’d buried his knife to the hilt under the ribs and into the heart of three before the rest turned and high tailed it because it was likely they’d never seen killing as efficient as that before, and in his rage he’d turned on Victor wielding his trusted switch blade already dripping with the life of others.

 _That_ was when he began to trust, because Victor hadn’t even bothered to defend himself, he took the blade to his gut that Yuuri meant to eviscerate, to cause a slow and painful death, and in the moment before the knife could sink home Yuuri caught the glimmer of moonlight in Victor’s eyes and found his trust right there, something that Victor already had given him. 

“Yeah, that was wild,” Victor’s chuckle, full of nostalgia and warmth brought him back to the present, “it was also the first time I found out how scary you could be.” 

“Is that right?” Yuuri hummed as he gave in and lay his head against Victor’s bare chest to listen to his heart again, it was beating slow now, sure and steady for the journey ahead.

“Mm, and now I’m remembering how hot you are when you go all badass like that.” came Victor’s dreamy observation. 

Yuuri just stuttered before he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, words failing him as he buried his face in the crook of Victor’s neck to escape his embarrassment because Victor was also so fucking good at catching him off guard like that.

That’s when thunder boomed from Victor’s chest as he laughed, as his body shook with his amusement and he reached up to pet Yuuri’s hair, “You’re so cute, Yuuri.”

Yuuri should have fucking killed him.

* * *

The days blurred into one that week, they slept minimal hours during the day and moved about the house at night, both convinced that if people did find the house they’d come at night. 

They spent days making preemptive plans only to end up distracted by each other, they’d never spent this much time together before, it was new territory for them both and it turned out all the time they wanted was just ending up wasted because they spent it kissing while their coffee went cold, marvelling for too long at each other’s bodies in the shower while the hot water ran out, or it started with Victor trapping Yuuri in the kitchen as he kissed Yuuri’s shirtless ink decorated back and then they’d just end up fucking over the kitchen bench as their food burnt, it was reliving childhood memories of their first kill or their first gun, it was learning about each others’ habits like the fact that Victor held his knife and fork the wrong way around, that he flossed his teeth before he brushed them, that he hummed the same lonely tune when he thought too much about something, they _learned_ about each other and that was the biggest time waster of all because Yuuri couldn’t get enough.

It was on their 6th night of this backwards version of a honeymoon phase that they set solid plans, throwing ideas back and forth with fake passports and documents on the coffee table in the lounge, the leather covers reflecting the dim light of the lamp in the corner that was their sole source of illumination. 

There was only one other person in the world that Yuuri could trust, and that meant Victor would trust him too, Phichit and information brokering group was in Thailand, the perfect place for the both of them to lay low for more than a week.

It would mean a weeks worth of travel on the Trans-Siberian and Mongolian railway net work, there would be heavy bribes and prices to pay for them to transport a car full of weaponry with fake number plates across the borders, the price for silence would be even higher still, because informants could be anywhere, and secrecy was their preferred method of handling things if they could help it right now.

The resolve that came with real plans and talk of the future was strong in the quiet that filled the air between them, it was solid and tangible and unstoppable, Yuuri almost felt sorry for anyone who got in their way, especially with the way Victor sat and visualised everything coming to fruition in his minds eye, his gaze distant and deep, his jaw set firm, his demeanour screaming danger, and _he_ was the one who was so incredibly sexy when his eyes were set to kill like that. 

Before he could get swept away once more, Yuuri decided to dose up on coffee before they began to pack the bare minimum of things that’d spilled from their bags.

“Coffee?” Yuuri asked as he got up and made his way to the kitchen, and he didn’t need to ask if he had milk or sugar anymore, now it was something he’d always remember, because when he asked for the first time that week Victor had just said ‘no milk, no sugar, because I’m sweet enough.’ and Yuuri had just thrown the sugar at him as Victor laughed at his own joke.

“Mhm.” Victor hummed his confirmation as he continued puzzling things over with his eyes on the documents and cash on the table, wondering how far this much money would get them, it was enough for any normal, not running from multiple groups of organised crime couple to live happily for a good three years. Bribes were expensive however, and killing people would only make the trail easy to follow, it was already unspoken at this point that the bribery would be up to Yuuri and he’d make that money go as far as he could.

So Yuuri pottered around with the small espresso machine in the kitchen as he thought to himself about how he could handle the corrupt border control officers and everyone they’d come across on their way to Thailand, he could slide in a few threats, because people always crumbled when you promised to wipe out their entire family and look like you’d have fun while doing it. 

He was halfway through making the second coffee for Victor when the whisper of a footstep gave away someone else’s presence in the small kitchen, he’d be confident it was Victor if the sound wasn’t so obviously meant to be unheard, if he hadn’t been listening for noises exactly like that all week, _all his life_ , and Yuuri scolded himself because he’d been working the entire time with his back to the doors that led to the laundry, the hallway and the way out to the back porch. Fuck. What a rookie mistake.

It was too late, Yuuri’s blood sung with adrenaline and the instinct to fight, he could feel his own weight on the balls of his feet, the current condition of his speed and agility, and he knew he could take this person if it weren’t for the distinct cold bite of the wrong end of a gun now pressed against the back of his neck.

“Move and I’ll blow your fucking brains out, pig.” came the very real threat from behind him.

The matching face to that voice came to him in an instant, he’d only met him once before, nevertheless the 19 year old blond who worked as the knife directed by the current head of the Mafia was unforgettable, he was also probably here to kill them both.

Oh, the appearance of Yuri Plisetsky might be a bit of a problem. 


	3. Idols and Anchors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eyes like a car crash, I know I shouldn't look but I can't turn away._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't replied to everyone's comments, I was so overwhelmed with the response when I decided to continue that I was speechless in the end, I will try better next time XD also I will say it once and I will say it again, tenses are hard. 
> 
> Thank you so much to Zebralightning for fanart of tattooed Yuuri, it's so good, check it out! [here](http://zebralightning.tumblr.com/post/155368100945/masquerade-by-captain-erwinmerica-had-me-so)
> 
> Edited to the best of my abilities, so that means there will be some typos.

If anyone ever told you they could remain _completely_ calm when the imminent promise of death was caressing the back of your neck like it was for Yuuri now, then they were either small fry who weren’t playing serious games, stupid and had never been shot before, or a combination of the two. The stupid ones ended up dead, the small fry ended up working for the big fish, and Yuuri was normally the one on the winning side of confrontation because people constantly underestimated him. 

He was hinging on that being the case right now, and as tension coiled around his feet and sent a shiver of adrenaline up his spine, he hoped his first and only meeting with Yuri Plisetsky nearly a year ago would help his cause, it might not. It all depended on how the perpetually angry Russian looked at it. 

Yuri Plisetsky had saved his life, not out of the goodness of his heart of course, but out of spite. 

Yuuri was only human, sometimes jobs went wrong no matter how many contingencies you took, or how hard you tried to clear your mind from certain silver haired distractions, the deal for joint trade routes he’d been sent to negotiate in Beijing 11 months ago was a prime example of things going _exactly_ how they shouldn’t.

He’d been ambushed while he was out alone three days before the sham of a deal was meant to take place, set up and watched since his feet hit the ground in Beijing, Yuuri near panicked because he was meant to be meeting Victor while he was here and as far as he was concerned nothing was going to get in his way, not one single thing was going to make Victor worry or do anything drastic like wipe out the whole of the Chinese triad because if Victor knew what was happening that is exactly what he would do, not for the pathetic reason of coming to the rescue, Victor Nikiforov wouldn’t give his trust to someone who couldn’t save themselves, no, it was because it was as Yuuri said; because _nothing_ was going to encroach on their time together that was fast becoming more valuable than the lives of other human beings. 

And Yuuri _knew_ Victor would pull all his stops for him, they’d silenced people permanently already, an entire organisation wasn’t out of the question, he knew this deep down in his soul because it was a question Yuuri himself already had an answer for. He’d paint Beijing red, blow their secret sky high and damn them both in the process, so he had to show up for Victor’s sake if nothing else. 

It was a long, drawn out manhunt though the dark, haze polluted streets of Beijing in the mercifully unbiased cover of night, Yuuri’s physical stamina saved him more than once, but small skirmishes of knife fights and gunfire, a trail of cooling bodies and constant running had wrung from him everything he had. He’d sprained his ankle and had a limp that screamed vulnerable and defenceless, he had blood not his own staining his white collar, coagulated in his hair, spattered on his glasses, drying thick and sticky under his nails, and all Yuuri could think as he limped through streets and got himself hopelessly lost was that it wouldn’t do to meet Victor looking like this. 

So he’d stopped at intersecting alleyways to catch his breath, to think and wrestle down the acidic panic that gnawed at your control when things began to look hopeless, he was out of ammo, all he had was his switch blade stuck in his grip with glue made of murder on his fingers. The brick wall he’d slumped on warmed his back with heated memories of the sun, at the end of one of the small avenues a street lamp ticked haphazardly as the bulb threatened to blow, and the people following him didn’t bother to hide their heavy footsteps anymore as they closed in. 

Even as he steeled himself for the fight to come with nothing left but the wall to back him up and a stubborn will to see Victor because he’d been looking forward to it for the last fucking six weeks, as he set his jaw firm because he knew this was going to _hurt_ ; Yuuri heard the metallic hiss of a silencer fitted gun followed by the flesh heavy thumps of bodies hitting unyielding concrete one after another, it was a sound that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than efficient murder. There were shouts cut off with muffled gargles, groaning sounds only the dying made as life abandoned them, and suddenly it was only one pair of footsteps approaching from the edge of Yuuri’s hearing, measured, professional, seemingly calm.

That was until the source of the footsteps rounded the corner and entered Yuuri’s vision, and through the fog of exhaustion and pain he was faced with his namesake; Yuri Plisetsky with a disgusted snarl on his face who looked at Yuuri like he was less than trash.

“So you’re the reason the entire Chinese triad is on the loose. What a fucking joke for someone as useless as you. They’ve got you in a corner.” and the look turned to utter hatred, scorn and distaste and all the malice that was reserved for families that had septic blood between them, even if Plisetsky himself didn’t know how high up Yuuri actually placed in one of those said families. 

“I would kill you,” Yuri had murmured at him as he stepped in antagonistically close with his gun casually poised at Yuuri’s heart, “but I think I’ll leave you for Victor, I’m sure he’ll want the pleasure for all the shit that your family has caused.”

And he’d left Yuuri only after giving him a swift kick to the ribs that ripped the air from his lungs with a sickening crack, it lit stars in his vision, choked him in bile and the remnants of his last meal, and as he relied more and more on the steadfast wall at his back for support with the sound of those footsteps retreating; all Yuuri did was laugh to himself, seemingly insane as his knees gave out in the stupid alleyway fuck knows where in the heart of Beijing, because _of course_ Victor would want the pleasure, an entirely different kind. The joke was on the Russian Yuri this time. 

He’d continued snickering to himself for too much time as he clutched at his broken rib and fought nausea to his feet, and just as he’d gathered enough breath in his lungs to actually breathe, to collect his thoughts and curse because he was going to be late now and he loathed to keep Victor waiting more than anything; an entirely different rhythm of footsteps came clacking around the corner, a strong cadence Yuuri knew like he knew the beat of his own heart. And there _he_ was draped in his oblivion coloured trench coat with gloves of midnight on his elegant hands, walking as if even gravity couldn’t bring him down. 

“What’s this? A little cat told me he’d dragged something in, I hope you weren’t going to stand up your hot date.” 

Reliving the memories of what happened when it was none other than Victor Nikiforov who found him passed out on his feet would have to wait, because now Yuuri couldn’t work out if the other Yuri wanted to shoot him with the gun trained on his neck, or stab him with it; there was a painful twist against his skin as the Russian snarled, and Yuuri thought dying with the blunt end of a barrel cracking his spine would be a pretty shit way to go.

“You know, I thought it was some sick joke when one of Victor’s underlings came back and told Yakov that he’d taken off with someone from _your_ family of all the fucking families, and it turns out to be you, what the actual _fuck_.” the cold barrel only dug deeper into the nape of his neck as Yuuri stood with his hands braced on the bench in an attempt to seem subdued, and the thoughts in his head ran faster than his racing heart to try and figure a way around this situation. 

Nothing could really prepare you for Yuri Plisetsky however, so the seconds ticked by as the threat of violence and bloodshed soaked the room, and after the count of 10 had been and gone, Yuuri knew he wasn’t going to die after all or he’d have been put down without mercy already. 

That eliminated the option of his death for now, and Yuuri sighed as his heartbeat began to steady itself, as his sense of calm returned with each thump of his pulse and he began to feel in control once more, because if he wasn’t here to be killed outright then he was indeed being underestimated. 

These people didn’t know there was nothing holding Yuuri back now that he had everything he wanted, now that he _finally_ had his everything to lose. 

“Turn around.” came the snapped order from behind, and Yuuri did so with his hands on his hips and his chin held high, because Victor had thrown it all away for him and it was time to show everyone why. 

So he stood there in Victor’s shirt with it unbuttoned to the chest, smirking as Yuri took in the marks of insatiable greed that Victor had left in a frenzy on Yuuri’s neck down to his collarbone. 

Yuri’s expression flashed between revulsion and confusion as he took it all in, like he really hadn’t been expecting this after all, like it was still a lie even though Victor had vanished for the last week with less than a word. In the end Yuri ended up with this half convinced sneer on his face as he eyed Yuuri up and down and came to his own conclusions, “So this is how it is, he’s made you his plaything instead, probably the only thing you’re good for by the looks of it, pig.” 

And before Yuri could get anymore comfortable in his smug assumptions, Yuuri took one measured step forward with that gun trained on his chest and towered over the Russian with nothing but the height of his resolve and the satisfaction that Victor had chosen this path all on his own.

“Are you done underestimating me?” Yuuri’s question didn’t need an answer, sardonic as it was, and it was him with the self satisfied smirk tugging at his lip now as he looked down at Yuri who’d already lost the upper hand.

“Hah!? You’re pretty full of shit for someone who’s about to die any second now, and then that idiot Victor can come back.” and as Yuri brandished the gun around with his prickly threat; Yuuri managed to step closer still, to lean into the hollow barrel and imprint its shape on his skin underneath Victor’s shirt. 

As they stood there in a cold stare off that was about to explode into fighting at any unpredictable movement; from the corner of his eye Yuuri saw Victor appear through the doorway, wondering why Yuuri was taking so long. 

And if Yuuri thought the room was steeped in frigid air before, he was wrong. 

The transformation was near instantaneous, from the heart shaped smile that Victor shared only with him, from his whispered words so full of outrageous promises of the future, from the way he said Yuuri’s name a pitch higher on the last syllable when he was whining about something, it vanished in a breath and plunged the room into the icy depths of Victor’s eyes as he took the situation in. 

Yuuri saw Victor’s fingers twitch for his gun on instinct, saw his pupils flare with the entirely different promise of setting everything aflame, he saw Victor’s whole demeanour raise its hackles for a second before he’d processed it all and come to the same conclusion that Yuuri had, Yuri Plisetsky was here on his own accord, not on Yakov’s order.

“Yuri, what are you doing here?” Victor deadpanned from his vantage point that was the doorway, an empty smile on his lips like he already didn’t have the patience to deal with this, and even though it was the Russian he spoke to, his eyes were solely for Yuuri and the picture of him standing in front of another person with _his_ marks staining Yuuri’s skin, something no one else had ever seen before now. That gaze swallowed him whole, and suddenly it was like Yuuri Plisetsky didn’t even fucking exist at that point in time.

Yuri saw it too, he saw the way Victor looked at Yuuri like he’d never looked at anything or anyone else before, he saw the marks Yuuri had left in turn on Victor’s neck, he saw the complete image of them standing together and knew neither of them were in control of their feelings at all, he saw everything between them that they’d kept secret for 5 excruciating years, and how they’d lasted this long when it was so painfully _obvious_ like it was now, Yuuri didn’t know. 

“This is fucked, Victor, you’re seriously with him like that?” 

“We’re a cute couple, no?” Victor quipped with a wink at Yuuri then, because only Victor was capable of going from a stone cold 10 to an adorable boyfriend in 2 seconds flat.

“Stop joking around, Victor, it was his family- 

Yuri didn’t get to say his next words however, to speak out loud the _real_ reason why Victor and Yuuri pairing up was the most twisted turn of events that no one would ever expect, because Victor took a weighted step into the room and had his finger pressed firm on Yuri’s lip in demand of quiet in an instant, the unfinished sentence hung in the air, everyone knew what he was going to say anyway. 

The knot that always tied itself into Yuuri’s gut when he knew a fight was coming coiled with rebellion, because he didn’t need anyone bringing up something that’d been a source of unending unease for him until that day they’d both decided to trust each other unconditionally. 

“All’s fair in love and war, Yuri,” Victor drawled then as he stepped back once more, “this time love wins.” 

Yuri wasn’t done though, because he was renowned for his stubborn nature which was currently rearing its unwelcome head. “That’s fucking stupid, you promised to take over and teach me how to lead! Forget this pissant and come back.” 

So _that’s_ what Yuri Plisetsky was doing here, he’d stormed into this house all on his own for nothing but a promise, and when it came to the real thing, bonds not even death could sever, loyalty to someone else’s soul, then a simple promise was something Yuuri and Victor were already far beyond. The sun didn’t promise to rise in the morning, it just did.

Victor’s tightlipped smile came back then with a tilt of his head like the notion of forgetting Yuuri was something he couldn’t even comprehend, “Forget him?” and he seemed genuinely curious, curious like he wanted to know why the sky was blue and grass was green, he put a finger to his own lip in mock thought as the chill surrounding him became this tangible thing that spread its tendrils in search of his answer.

But Victor already had his own answer though, like Yuuri knew he would, the finger came away from his mouth as he leant forward with his full height to loom over Yuri once more, “Over my dead body.” 

That was when Yuri Plisetsky’s infamous temper tried its hand, because the young Russian snapped without thought, with an angry flare in his cheeks and a frustrated puff of his chest as he did so. “Fine then, I’ll just kill him.” 

It wasn’t an explosion that happened then, more like a single lightening strike as Victor’s hand shot out with a speed that Yuuri had never seen from any human before and curled itself in a choking vice grip around Yuri’s throat.

And this time Victor didn’t say _anything._ He just looked down at Yuri with his jaw clenched to keep this wild monster from coming out, there was no light in those vivid blue eyes now as he glared down at Yuri, only the abyss with a silence sharper than Yuuri’s switchblade that said killing Katsuki Yuuri would be the worst thing that could ever happen to the world because Victor would fucking _destroy_ it.

This was the Victor Nikiforov that people were deathly afraid of, the Victor that didn’t even _need_ to say a word because you could see the violence he kept restrained in his flesh, in his death-grip white knuckles with nothing but his decision not to kill you right there on the spot keeping you from your maker. 

This was what Yuuri had unleashed by finally making the choice, this is what burning the world looked like, and if this was before Victor lost his temper, even Yuuri couldn’t imagine what he’d be like _after_ he let anger control his actions. 

And it was almost ridiculous that Yuuri’s heart thumped in resonance to Victor’s show of menace, it pumped with adrenaline and thrill and _understanding_ because Yuuri knew exactly how Victor felt, because if the tables were ever turned…

Yuri’s eyes bulged in surprise as he struggled, as he dropped his weapon with an intrusive clatter across the tiled floor and clawed at the iron grip around his throat, still Victor didn’t say anything, he just looked down at Yuri until resignation bled into his eyes, until Yuri gave a frustrated growl and managed to twist out of the grip that Victor had loosened enough only to _let_ him to escape. 

“How did you find us?” Victor asked then, moving on as if he hadn’t been seconds away from committing homicide. 

Yuri’s coughing chipped at the ice in the room as he cleared his throat, impatience melting it further because if one person had found them then others wouldn’t be far behind. “Otabek.” 

“Should have known.” Victor sighed a grimace, and the same hand that’d been wrapped around Yuri’s throat with the full intent of grievous bodily harm reached out to Yuuri then, caressed Yuuri’s cheek as Victor’s eyes softened into unfathomable depths that only Yuuri would ever get to explore, calloused fingers lingered with care and affection, across his cheek and down to his jaw. 

“Looks like it’s time to go, love.” Victor whispered with a real smile then, his eyes alight with pure elation because they’d never done _this_ in front of another person before either. 

The kiss they shared in the crowded quiet of the small kitchen was chaste as Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist to hold him tight for the shortest heartbeat of his life, it was forceful and full of determination and the same hair raising excitement that’d been there the very first day they ran away together a week ago. 

It was over as soon as it started, there was no time now, no time to solidify plans or come up with back up ideas, they would have to pack in haste, wing it and hope the cash and cache of weapons they had would be enough to get them to Phichit, they had to leave, and _fast_ , because it wasn’t about someone finding them already, it was about getting out and as far away as they could now because the _next_ people that found them wouldn’t be here for a chat.

“If you’re not going back then I’m coming with you.” Yuri cut in with with his arms crossed over his chest that said this at least was something he really wasn’t going to budge from, and if trying to keep a low profile before was going to be hard, now it would be improbable at best. 

But Victor had already taken it in his stride, he knew exactly when to give and when to take to keep people following him, he knew when you had to suck it up and alter your course of action because adding Yuri to their plans wouldn’t give them less time, trying to keep him from following them would. 

“If you compromise our plans for even a second, if you do anything thoughtless that gives away our location or holds us back, then I have no problem getting rid of deadweight.” it wasn’t a threat, it was a fact, Victor stated it as surely as he’d state his own name. 

“Whatever, it’s not me that will be deadweight, but him.” and the Russian Yuri inclined his head in Yuuri’s direction with only a fraction less distaste before he gathered his weapon from the floor and shook himself off. 

Victor stopped moving then, paused halfway through the door that led back down the hall to their bedroom to no doubt pack their stuff and arm himself for a possible firefight to come, he looked back with sly amusement as he chuckled. 

“Oh, little Yura, you have no idea. You haven’t seen him angry. My Yuuri would eat you for breakfast.” 

* * *

He followed Victor back to the longest place they’d ever stayed together, the master bedroom with the floor to ceiling window that looked out over the ocean, the room with the lifeless white walls and the bed with too many pillows, with the empty nightstands that said people didn’t really live here after all, a room with a weeks worth of memories that Yuuri would never give up.

Victor was diligent as always as he unbuttoned his own shirt on Yuuri’s body, dressing each other as they’d always done knew no haste, not even now. 

So Victor took the shirt off Yuuri’s shoulders as he stood behind him and hummed this contented tune that Yuuri had memorised over the last week, he kissed the dragon’s head spanning the top of Yuuri’s back with devoted intimacy that vanquished the chill completely. 

And as Victor helped put new layers back on this time with deft fingers and practiced hands, Yuuri found the suit Victor had packed for him far less heavy than his previous ones.

This armour made of cotton and wool with a new mask made of determination and conviction felt good on him, it fit perfectly, and as usual Victor could see it too.

“Looks good on you.” Victor drawled with heat as he pulled the holster over Yuuri’s head and stepped in close to tighten the straps, his fingers strayed with thoughts of their own, hands grasped at Yuuri’s ribs as Victor leant down and bumped their foreheads together to exchange baited breath. “Now is not really a good time for you to be this beautiful, Yuuri.” came the next low admonishment, and Victor really was excited about this after all. 

And Yuuri couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist something he used to be starved of for so long, so he erased the small distance between their lips and met Victor’s mouth with his, he nipped at Victor’s lip, sucked on his tongue, kissed him open mouthed and filthy until Victor was growling with frustration and grasping at his ass with want to pull their groins flush. 

Victor was always so easy, wound up tight too fast, and Yuuri loved to tease him just a much as what Victor did Yuuri. “Not now, Victor.” Yuuri winked as he pushed himself away from Victor’s chest, and the sight of Victor with flushed cheeks and kiss red lips would never get old, especially as a feral smile dawned on his face, full of mischief and fire. 

“You’re so mean to me, Yuuri.” Victor feigned hurt with a hand to his heart as his voice dropped an octave and turned into a very real threat that he would definitely make good on. “You will pay for that.” 

“I’m counting on it.” was all Yuuri said with a playful grin of his own, and then it was his turn to help Victor dress with the same care that’d been shown to him, and kissing Victor like that had been a horrible idea after all, because Victor was and always would be irresistible to Yuuri after all. 

* * *

It turned out Yurio, which Yuuri had taken to calling him for his own amusement -much to Yurio’s anger- and because there was only room for one Yuuri in Victor’s life, had come on a motorbike that he’d parked down the long road and made the rest of the way on foot to remain unheard.

A bike was too noticeable, too hard to make use of, too much of a give away, so one of the first conclusions they all came to was that the three of them had to travel in one car, and the friction surrounding them only turned all the more tense. 

It was a hasty ten minutes worth of packing bags and the station wagon that would now carry three, a methodical loading of weapons in silence, laying them out on the dining room table and then loading _more_ because the night beyond the porch-light of the cosy house on the edge of the world seemed too dark, too fraught with cold air that carried the noise of gravel crunching underfoot as they went back and forth from the house to the car, _too_ peaceful in its stillness, like things just outside the light’s domain lay in wait and had frightened all the natural music of night into hiding. 

And all throughout their preparations Yuuri could feel Victor’s eyes on him, could feel his obsession with watching his back to keep it safe because it was the only responsibility in his life that he’d ever wanted. And now that he had what he wanted nothing could take it from him. This was a Victor the world hadn’t seen before, and Yuuri smouldered with his own sinful pride because that Victor belonged to him. 

The things in the dark were in for a fright of their own.

Time always went slower at night, after those ten minutes that seemed to drag on for time they no longer had they were finally all piling into the car, Victor in the drivers seat, Yuuri next to him in the passengers seat, and Yuri Plisetsky silently obedient in the back with an AK-47 on his lap because his loyalty was with his ambition and not the mafia that he’d seemingly abandoned now too.

The abrupt click of seat belts fastening cut at the quiet air inside the vehicle, the low thrum of the engine firing set them even further on edge, and before Victor shifted the car into gear he touched Yuuri’s thigh briefly, the illumination in his eyes enough to keep the night outside the car at bay.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” 

* * *

The road was quiet in the hills on the outskirts of St Petersburg, their solitary set of headlights on the winding road back into town bright against the oppressive blackness of night as the darkest hour approached the clock. 

The engine purred a warm noise as if it were happy to be of service, and they managed to make it back into a built up area in the city without incident. 

“What about Otabek?” Victor asked suddenly as they came to a smooth halt at a stop sign, everyone had their eyes peeled everywhere at once, it was still a long way to go before they made it to the train yard where the next part of their journey would start.

In the backseat, Yurio just shrugged, “He’ll figure it out eventually and catch up.” 

“Aw, you’re lucky Yura, to have someone like that.” Victor chuckled as his eyes scanned the road ahead where streetlights shone down on the industrial district with large factory buildings and chain mesh fencing to line the way. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yuri bristled in the back seat as Victor decided to back track and approach their destination from a different direction.

“You’ll know one day.” Was all Victor said. 

Minutes passed on the digital display of the car’s dash, they were into the thick of the city now with its domed roof buildings and colourful spired cathedrals, some streets were narrow and long with no where to turn off, some were short one way bridges where you could be cut off with no place to run. The density of civilisation made for a potential disaster with each turn.

It didn’t help that Yuuri didn’t know the streets to get to where they were going, where to look, or how long it might be until they got there, he did however know when he was being followed. It was a feeling you couldn’t shake, something you couldn’t wash from your skin or brush off your shoulder, and as busy as the night time traffic was in St Petersburg, Yuuri didn’t think seeing the same black SUV three times in the space of 2 minutes was a coincidence. 

“Victor.” Both Yuuri and Yuri echoed at the same time as they both noticed, as they both sat forward on the edge of their seat a little more than before and flicked the safety off their weapons without a second thought. And Yuuri could feel the regard on the back of his head as Yuri scowled at him like he’d lost a competition in observation. 

Victor changed gears with a fast foot on the clutch and a fluid movement of the gearstick, his face set into a grim smile as the car responded in turn, “And so it begins.” 

“Yeah and it looks like it’s about to fucking end already, Victor. There’s more than one. Shit, watch out!” 

The _real_ explosion happened then, it happened in the shattering of tempered glass and its razor sharp snow as an attempt to T-bone their car from the side street just passed failed and smashed into their rear wheel instead. Tyres screeched in distress as other vehicles closed in, Yuuri’s vision blurred as they fishtailed with the impact, and as the world moved so very slow before his eyes he noticed how strangely empty the streets were now. 

Beside him in the driver’s seat, Victor reached across to him once more to squeeze his leg, he looked across at Yuuri with his smile that went all the way to his eyes and winked at him with more excitement and madness, with no thought of fear that they could possibly fail, and even through his ringing ears and all the alarm bells sounding in Yuuri’s head; he could hear Victor humming.

He knew the tune well by now. 

_’Stay close to me’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for me to add the slow burn tag now?


	4. The Siren's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Signal the sirens, rally the troops. Ladies and gentlemen, it's the moment of truth_ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [kantonliu](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com) did some art for this, and I'm so happy with how it turned out.  
> [Find it on my tumblr here](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com/post/155985814238/and-the-rest-of-the-world-would-finally-burn)
> 
> On another note - I'm full of head canons and backstory for this AU and I'm *struggling* not to write an entire fic of backstory tbh, so I'll be posting interlude chapters as side stories, if you have any questions about their history in the AU, fire them at me on tumblr!
> 
> Warnings for blood/graphic depictions of violence in this chapter - this is a Mafia AU.
> 
>  _Siren's Song_ : the enticing appeal or utterance of something alluring but potentially dangerous.

If you told Katsuki Yuuri 5 and a half years ago that one day he would fight on the _same_ side as Victor Nikiforov, pair up with him and turn the underworld on its head in a bloody escape for survival; then he might have actually laughed in your face and shot you there on the spot, because if you were that stupid then you weren’t worth the air you needed to breathe.

Who would have thought meeting Victor all those years ago in Detroit would lead to this perfect state of chaos.

He was 19 years old at the time, and Yuuri remembered thinking he was probably going to die that night, he remembered thinking that he would have been okay with it, too. It’s not like there’d been all too much too _live_ for, back then. He’d been sent to America with his skin still itching with the last patch of his back filled with colour. It’d been a minor job, meet an arms dealer or two, procure weapons and units of ammunition for the prices only Yuuri was capable of negotiating, transport them home and then the deal was done until the next task was handed to him.

It was the night that he was due to go back to Hasestu that they met, he’d gone to an inconspicuous bar where the bartender thought he was older than he was, and he’d ordered himself a drink before doing the same thing he always did. Deciphering those around him was always a satisfying way to pass the abundant amount of time he had on nights like the one he’d met Victor.

He’d picked apart everyone he could see in his direct field of vision, the couple having an affair who were too paranoid to enjoy their drinks, the flustered school teacher who needed a cigarette and something strong to unravel from the day that’d nearly pushed him over the edge, the group of businessmen with passable suits who were celebrating a deal they’d made on the right side of the law.

He’d swivelled around on his bar stool then, and he remembered the instant he saw Victor Nikiforov’s solitary frame siting at a table across the shadow filled room that was fast becoming too small, _stifling_ , because seeing that poised back sitting there hit Yuuri like a sledgehammer to the chest.

He remembered thinking how impossible it was to tear his eyes away, he remembered thinking how the slope of those shoulders and the taper of his suit was even better in real life compared to the surveillance photos his family collected. Yuuri remembered thinking that if he didn’t already know who that impeccable suit and silver hair belonged to then Victor would just be another face in the room, hiding beneath a beautiful, perfectly crafted mask just as Yuuri did when he came to these places to blend in with the silence that never passed judgement.

And Victor, attentive as he was and always would be, had turned with the feel of Yuuri’s gaze on his back and he’d _smiled_ this devastating, all knowing smile because in that moment, in that bar with the same single drink and the same blend of isolation; they were more alike than they would ever be different.

He remembered how his heart responded with a mind of its own as the colour of those electric blue eyes found him, he remembered how it raced as Victor got up from his chair, all long limbed and graceful as he walked over with all eyes on him because he was the most drop dead gorgeous thing in the room, and he’d sat next to Yuuri with a sigh like he’d just come home from a long day at the office, and then he’d ordered them both a drink like he’d been planning to meet Yuuri here all along.

“You know, I can pick apart everyone in this room, and then there’s you, who could fool anyone _but_ me.” and Victor said it offhandedly as he took his drink from the bartender, like he was talking about the weather or the current state of the stock market, like he was talking about something insignificant, something he didn’t even _care_ about, not like he was talking about the fact that underneath Yuuri’s suit, under his mask, under the colours on his very _skin_ ; was blood worthy to be called underworld royalty, and Yuuri couldn’t even fucking _breathe_ , his heart trapped in shock somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

“Relax.” Victor had chuckled then, and Yuuri recalled the warmth that’d washed over him in that welcoming sound, the sense of relief that he wasn’t going to die after all, because that was the moment his puzzle had completed itself all on its own. And life had never been the same since.

“We’re just two nameless faces sharing a drink, right?” came Victor’s next prompt, and he gave Yuuri this cheeky wink because he did indeed _know_ everything, of course someone like Victor would have all the intel. Surprises were usually bad for someone like Yuuri, and yet he’d never been more pleased to be surprised in his life instead.

“Right.” Yuuri had agreed with a laugh of his own, and he’d filled himself up on liquid courage as they passed the time, as Yuuri slowly but surely brought himself across the line he’d always _wanted_ to cross, because in every photo of all the reports his family received, no matter how many people Victor was surrounded with, from the company of one to an entire retinue of men; he was always so unmistakably alone.

He would never forget the look of wide eyed astonishment on Victor’s face as they were about to part in the dark street in front of the bar after hours of small talk, because he’d reached out and taken Victor fucking Nikiforov’s hand, pulled him in to exchange whiskey scented breath under a dim streetlight with the hiss of tyres as late night taxis sped passed, and he’d asked to see Victor like this again.

Yuuri remembered how it was Victor who took his other hand then, the grip tight and trembling, he remembered how Victor’s surprise turned to heartbreak and anguish as he screwed his eyes shut to keep that mask from showing all that was stowed beneath, because it was so _hard_ and unfair to believe that loneliness was banished with just a few words like that, so abysmal to think that Yuuri of all people had been the first person to _offer_ to meet him as another human face. Victor was destined to stand on top of the world, and so he’d already been isolated by his own potential for dominance.

He remembered how Victor first leant in and bumped their foreheads together with a gentleness someone like him shouldn’t be capable of, he remembered his eyelashes that were thick and long and far prettier than they had any legal right to be, he remembered the musk of his cologne and the rise and fall of his chest as Victor opened his eyes to look at him with that fire that Yuuri knew would never go out. He’d spoken to Yuuri with fervour and passion, with rapid breaths of need and _want_ , with everything except the hate he should feel. “Are you really asking me this?” and the charged silence in the quiet street told them both what _’this’_ was.

“Y-yeah…” and Yuuri had been scared sober then, not for his life, but scared of rejection, scared of not having this again, scared of playing the fool because what he was asking was rightfully insane, it made more sense for Victor to kill him than to say yes.

But Victor had just sighed once more as his mask fell away, as he’d pulled Yuuri even closer still, closer so there was _nothing_ between them at all, no divides, no rules, no secrets, no lines that they definitely shouldn’t cross. “You know what you’re getting into with me?” Victor questioned him again, a gentle whisper.

And Yuuri had been too startled, too speechless to answer, because it was clear to the both of them what Victor wanted him to say. Underneath that mask was this dreadful mix of desperation and power, like Victor could take it all anyway, but he wanted Yuuri to give it to him instead, because it turned out Yuuri was the only person that understood, the only person that _could_.

“There’s no going back for either of us if we meet again.” the words had ghosted across his lips, they’d run down his spine in shivers and goosebumps, and the excitement of it all had answered for him.

“I know, Victor.” that was the first time he’d said Victor’s name to his face, the first time Victor’s name became a secret on his tongue, the first time he’d wanted to keep something for himself and never let go.

It was the first time he thought that if you told Katsuki Yuuri that in 5 years from now he’d be on the same side as Victor Nikiforov, that he might have actually believed you instead, because Victor laughed again, carefree, ambitious and charming all in one, he’d closed the distance and pulled their bodies flush, and he’d looked at Yuuri like he’d been _waiting_ for that moment, like it was everything he could have hoped for.

“It’s a date then, Yuuri.”

And as they’d stood there breathing the same heated air with the world nonexistent at their backs, it was the very first time that Yuuri heard Victor hum the song he was currently humming now, its deep melody tolling in his chest like the sad ode it was, and it would never fail to strike him as breathtakingly sombre, this tune of Victor’s soul.

“Those fucking shitheads!” Yurio’s curse cut through Yuuri’s lapse in thought as the chaos lulled enough for movement in the car to settle and Yuuri’s head to stop spinning, for that solemn humming next to him to become loud enough to quell his rising panic.

In the back seat Yurio’s face was streaks of blood, glass had exploded from the impact on the opposite side of the vehicle with enough velocity to scatter the entire inside of the car with malicious shards, it was a small dose of luck in an otherwise unlucky stop to their plans however, but it was getting increasingly _more_ unlucky as the seconds ticked by.

Yuuri counted, three extra SUVs were nearly upon them, their accusing headlights stretching towards each other to form a cage of illumination to keep them from escaping into the night beyond. Their own car had whipped a quarter turn and was now facing head on to the SUV that’d hit them, only a few meters away with its own headlights blown, the inhabitants inside yet to move as they recovered from the impact of hitting something head on.

It was in those critical few seconds that Yuuri managed to evaluate an escape route, that Victor had already done the same. Yuri Plisetsky was still cursing as he looked around, not quite experienced enough yet to think his way out of this one, Yuuri mused to himself.

Their car wasn’t riddled with bullets already, they were wanted alive rather than dead, all they needed was for one of the vehicles to move, to open up a path, and what better car than the one with the stunned occupants who were getting out of the vehicle one by one to shake themselves off, there was only four of them, sitting ducks to someone like Yuuri provided no one else entered the fray. That would be Victor’s job.

“Think the car can still drive?” Yuuri asked Victor as he slipped a pair of tanto knives - that Victor once again had the foresight to pack, to give him moments before they left the house for the last time like a gift he’d kept just for this moment- up his sleeves, they were sharp as sin, well balanced, the perfect length for lunging in to stab someone unsuspecting in the throat.

Yuuri knew he was quivering, flustered with excitement because it was time for him to play his part, and he knew it perfectly, Victor did too, everyone else however…

“It’s going to have to.” Victor said as he kept humming, his gloved hands inside his jacket now as he took his weapons out and got ready to cover Yuuri’s mad dash approach to the banged up SUV and the targets in the way.

Fingers curled around the door handle, Yuuri leant over the centre console, face to face with Victor as tyres screeched to a halt and the air outside the car became this hostile thing as it lay in wait for someone to come out, to negotiate or simply _hand_ over the person that caused this mess, Yuuri. “Get rid of the men, move the car, pick me up on the way out?” Yuuri confirmed the plan both of them had run through in their own heads.

“It’s a date, Yuuri.” and Victor being Victor; he just winked with all his charm and smashed their mouths together for good measure in a soul burning kiss that would have to be enough fuel to the fire for them to pull this off.

“What the fuck, Victor, you’re letting him go out there, he’s scared shitless!” Yurio cut in as he finally came to the same conclusion they had, not _one_ bullet had been fired yet, and that was their biggest advantage. They were all underestimating the lengths Victor and Yuuri both were willing to go to, to get out of this pinch.

“Watch my back, then.” Yuuri whispered before he pulled away, before he flung the car door open and began his fastest sprint to close the gap, and he didn’t need to wait for an answer, because he knew Victor’s reply would be _’always.’_

Times like this, three or four adrenaline filled seconds where your life hung in the balance, they always had a way of slowing down for Yuuri, his feet had this way of finding the surest footing and the best path to follow, and as shouts of alarm went up in the coarse Russian tongue, as gunshots fired with thunderous cracks from Victor’s gun to keep the attention of those shouts diverted; Yuuri knew they’d already won.

The four men grouping up to meet him were just dime a dozen subordinates, they weren’t Victor Nikiforov or Yuri Plisetsky, they weren’t anyone high up in the Russian Mafia or Yuuri would know their faces, these men hadn’t decided what to do, how to handle this lone opponent who was seemingly unarmed, but by the time they realised how fast Yuuri was coming at them it was already too late.

Still night air carried the wail of sirens approaching in the distance as Yuuri closed the gap with his ground eating strides, he’d pulled the tanto knives out from his sleeves with fluid movements his body knew by heart, and now he was close enough to see their expressions even in the dim streetlamp-twilight, their surprise, their panic, and because they were close enough to see Yuuri’s own grim determination now too; their _fear._

In the car behind him he heard Yuri Plisetsky curse something unintelligible that sounded like ‘what the fuck’ as Yuuri’s knives caught the light in a blur of motion, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he lunged in underneath the first man’s guard to slash at the artery in his groin, the arterial blood that gushed onto his hand was warm and messy as blood always was. He really should try to keep the suit that Victor got him clean.

He laughed even more when the rapid-fire action of Yuri’s AK-47 joined in the chorus with Victor’s handguns, because 5 years ago, 5 days ago, or even 5 hours ago, he would never have foreseen _this_ either.

From there it was springing off his lead foot to punch both blades into the lungs of the next person who couldn’t stop Yuuri’s running momentum, and it was using that gurgling body, limp as death, as a shield when one of the two remaining men finally came to his senses and decided that deadly force was needed for Yuuri after all.

Gunshots fired, the violent repercussions vibrating in Yuuri’s bones as the bullets thumped into their now dead comrade one shot after another before Yuuri pushed the still warm corpse back onto them for another surprise attack, and it hadn’t even hit the ground before Yuuri was on the next person with a flying leap to plunge his reaper sharp knives to the hilt down in between the soft hollows of his collarbones.

Even in the poor visibility of night, Yuuri could see the instant those eyes glazed over with oblivion at the same time as the man turned casualty toppled to his knees before him, and Yuuri’s blood roared in his veins, pounded in his chest, grew hot behind his eyes, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to let loose like this.

The siren’s were closer now, echoing their persistence to each other as they raced to the scene from different directions, the bullets firing around him were less frequent as the battle slowly found itself in their favour, and with that the last man turned on his heel and he tried to _run_ , he tried to run from Yuuri for his life and there was no way Yuuri was going to let that happen when it was something he wasn’t allowed to do with Victor.

In a frenzy now; Yuuri slashed at his hamstrings first, because everyone needed to know the feeling of hopelessness when the only thing you wanted was just out of reach, the clean dual handed cuts severed the tendons that gave way with no resistance, and the blood curdling scream that came from the depths of last man’s chest before Yuuri kicked him in the back to send him to his knees, before he stepped in close behind and crossed his blades over the man’s chest like this mocking embrace only to slit his throat from ear to ear; it was recognisable no matter what language it was in.

From the time Yuuri left the car to now felt like a life time of its own, a life time of waiting for the next time he’d see Victor, a life time of that one thing to look forward to, but it’d only been a minute at the most, and it was definitely time to go, to see Victor again.

Face down corpses forgotten as life blood pooled on the concrete around them, up into the driverless SUV he stepped, and it was lucky he only needed to reverse this thing out of the way because it was huge and _slow_ and he hated driving it for the two seconds it took for him to move it like they planned, he didn’t even look where he was going, the car stopped on its own as he backed it into a streetlight, the bulb above winked out, opening a path into the shadow for them to run and flee this place.

The station wagon pulled up next to Yuuri, dragging its rear bumper against the pavement as it rolled to a stop, more bullets burst through the back window as Yuuri threw himself into the open door and promptly pulled it shut behind him, and as Victor put his foot down, as the car lurched into motion with one blown tyre and a bumper dragging behind, Victor laughed, mad and crazy and unstoppable as he was.

“Fancy seeing you here, love.” came the rush of breath, and he looked just as suave as always, his eyes alight, his face flushed with that shade of pink that coloured his cheeks whenever he was excited.

“Shut up, you lovesick fool, have you thought about what we do now?” Yuri cut in from the back, he didn’t look any worse for wear than what he had after the initial crash, he did however look more irritated, more put out, more confused than ever, because even as he was snapping at Victor, the only thing he was looking at was Yuuri like he’d just grown two heads and taken flight.

“Oh.” Victor cocked his head with a clueless pout as his eyes went blank, and he did that cute thing that always made Yuuri’s insides flutter with love drunk butterflies; he put a finger up to his lip in thought before he answered with this impish shrug of his shoulders and an unapologetic grin to go with it. “I was too distracted watching Yuuri to think about anything else. God, I’ve never seen violence look so hot.”

Yuuri self combusted in the front seat, flustered all over again for a different reason because only Victor could blurt out such ridiculous things and be entirely serious about it, he lowered himself even further down, wanting to crawl into the footwell where his bloody knives waited to be cleaned. And all the while Yuuri thought that he’d always thought the same about Victor.

“Ugh. You’re disgusting.” the Russian Yuri shot back, “It’s lucky Georgi wasn’t with that lot or he’d have just blown us to smithereens, that crazy bastard is out for your head you know, thinks he can takeover. Anyway, go to Otabek’s, it will be safe there.”

“Otabek’s?” Victor questioned, his eyebrows drawn in with thought as they sped passed buildings and found themselves in a more quiet suburb with no one on their trail, for now.

“His real place, you know the one.” and Yuri was _still_ looking at Yuuri with cautious curiosity even as he talked to Victor in a casual manner that Yuuri hadn’t seen before now.

“Oooh, and no one else does.” and suddenly Victor had a direction in mind as he understood what Yurio meant, as their not so smooth ride turned down a side street with purpose, the bumper had fallen off sometime during their conversation, and Yuuri thought he might buy another car just like this one someday, because it’d served them well.

Yuuri didn’t know who this Otabek person was, he couldn’t recall the name from any of the reports his family received about the Russians, but if Victor trusted him enough to go there at a time like this, then Yuuri would have to as well.

“It’s okay, Yuuri.” but as usual Victor could sense his unease, and as usual all it took to banish it was a soft touch and a warm smile, “Otabek’s a mercenary, a good one at that, he keeps to himself and refuses to side with anyone, apart from a certain person in the back seat.”

“Oi! Shut up and drive.” and Yuri Plisetsky lashed out and kicked the back of Victor’s seat as an actual blush peppered his cheeks, much to Victor’s antagonistic amusement.

The rest of the ride fell into what Yuuri might call companionable peace, Victor hummed the whole way, holding Yuuri’s blood stained hand in a tight grip only to let go when he needed to change gears.

Yuri Plisetsky didn’t say another word, there were no angry huffs of impatience or superiority, no claims that this was mad or impossible, instead he just looked at Yuuri for the entire quiet drive, his gaze suspicious and searching like he was only now seeing Katsuki Yuuri for the first time.

* * *

It wasn’t far at all to get to their next stop, Otabek’s, a short drive back into the slumbering factories of the industrial suburbs where they pulled into a small garage, it was tucked in between two large steel frame buildings that concealed the entrance with permanent shadow, except, true to Victor’s style and dramatics; it wasn’t a garage at all but a sloping entrance to an old underground tunnel that led to matching garage at a confined property fenced high on all sides the next block over.

Trust Victor Nikiforov to have something this hollywood up his sleeve, Yuuri wondered if there would ever come a day where Victor couldn’t surprise him, he doubted it.

Dawn and all its hues were on the horizon as they left the car and approached a sizeable house next to a giant hangar. The gaping roller doors of the hanger revealed insides that looked to Yuuri to be well equipped enough to fight a war all on their own, there were armoured vehicles and transport trucks, quad bikes, dirt bikes, escort vehicles and containers that would no doubt contain more tools of the mercenary trade.

They didn’t it make to the brick house that looked more bomb shelter than home before someone emerged to greet them, to stare at Yuri more like, because he didn’t even looked surprised to see Victor and Yuuri there, he didn’t look like he felt anything at all, and it’d been a long time since Yuuri met someone he couldn’t read.

“This is Otabek.” Victor explained, and Otabek with his built frame that screamed military, his broad shoulders and easy stance; he just looked at Yuri Plisetsky instead, impassive and un-emotive as he took in the small cuts on Yuri’s face.

The silence stretched out, Victor waited like he’d seen it all before, a knowing smirk on his lip as Yuri gave in to Otabek’s unrelenting expression.

“I’m fine!” came the huffed breath, seemingly defeated by the fact that Otabek wasn’t going to proceed with anything until Yuri said something.

“Good.” Otabek’s face softened with a breath Yuuri hadn’t realised the man was holding until now, and he looked much more gentle than his first impression only a few seconds ago.

That left Yuri mumbling things to himself as Otabek finally turned to acknowledge his extra guests, and he did the same thing Yuri had done when seeing Victor and Yuuri together for the first time, he saw the way their posture revolved around one another even though they weren’t even touching, he saw Victor’s gaze flick back to Yuuri every few seconds like he was still afraid this was all going to vanish in a puff of smoke. He saw the blood on Yuuri’s hands, saw the red spattered across his chest and face, and he knew none of it was Yuuri’s own.

“I knew you were up to something when you asked me supply you with enough weapons for a one man mafia, the car, those tanto knives that took me forever to find, but I never would have guessed something quite this crazy.” Otabek mused to himself as he looked between them, and Yuuri knew he was the first person to see just how far they would go to for this, he could see the blood they were willing to spill, the chaos they’d unleash, and he just dipped his head in acknowledgement of the fact with a shimmer of understanding in his eye.

“I didn’t want to ask you for any more than that, but it looks like I’m going to have to now, sorry, Beka.” Victor answered with a shrug.

“Can’t be helped, plus, you’re technically on your own now aren’t you, so I can help as much as I want…” and Otabek left the implication of his statement unsaid as Yuri looked at him, bug eyed with his mouth forming words that wouldn’t come out.

The grin on Victor’s face was devilish in its ambition as he chuckled deep in his chest and shook Otabek’s hand with familiarity and respect, and it seemed even now, with only his name, Victor Nikiforov could still get people to follow him.

“You’re just saying that because of Yuri.” Victor teased, though everyone could see it was for reasons far more than that.

It was Otabek’s turn to shrug then, “I remember a few years ago you once told me _’Don’t forget what it is you want. Only you can make it a reality.’_ and it was probably the first time in my life I’ve been scared of someone. All this time I’ve wondered what you were thinking when you spoke those words, and now I know.”

Otabek stopped and looked at them both again, from Victor to Yuuri, because it was clear his next words were meant for them both, the leaders of this not-really-a-group that started as two and now seemed to be four.

“I’ll willingly lend my strength to you, who will do anything to hold onto what they want.”

And then it was done, this round about verbal pact that whisked away the underlying tension as the sun rose higher and bathed them in morning light.

“Let’s head inside so you can clean up and get some rest before anything else, looks like you’ve had a fun night.”

* * *

They were left to their own devices then, and even as Yuuri took himself off down the white walled hallway to find a bathroom, he still felt the attention of Yuri Plisetsky watching his movements, he hadn’t said a word to Yuuri since Yuuri had jumped back in the car, but it was easy to see there was a hundred and one things the Russian was thinking.

The house from what Yuuri observed was immaculate, organised and tidy with the bare essentials and nothing more in each room he’d passed, and there was a strange sense of comfort in the simplicity of it all.

Yuuri concentrated on the clean tiles, the lines of grout and the polished porcelain bench of the spare bathroom as he willed that knot of tension away in his stomach, as he cleared the last of the adrenaline from his system and forced himself to come down from the thrill of escaping with Victor once again.

If he’d known it would be this exciting, this full of Victor’s smiles and Victor’s laughs and Victor’s infectious madness, then Yuuri would have bitten the proverbial bullet long ago.

Everything that’d happened since meeting Victor that night one week ago had been a surprise, and as the blood that’d dried black on his hands washed away in swirls of dirty water down the drain, Yuuri wondered what else might be in store, he knew the worst was yet to come.

There would be backlash from his family still, Minako would be undoubtably seething, all the years she’d spent raising him from the day he was born, training him in every walk of life, teaching him to fight and to kill and to _win_ , the hours she’d spent showing Yuuri how to hide his true face, the effort she’d invested to build him into who he was, her life’s work; seemingly wasted.

That was about the only regrettable thing to come from this, because Minako and Victor ever meeting would be the worst thing that could _ever_ happen in Yuuri’s life. He’d known that since the day he decided Victor was something he couldn’t live without.

There was also the other side, the Russians would be far from done with them, and if Yuuri was right about Georgi Popovich then they needed to be out of the country sooner than later, because even Yuuri knew that guy was an unpredictable loose cannon.

Despite it all, Yuuri found himself looking forward to whatever happened next.

“What are you smiling for, Yuuri?” came the deep mumble as Victor found him in the bathroom, strong arms wrapped about Yuuri’s waist like that’s where they belonged as Victor hugged him from behind, as he put his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder and looked at the image of them both in the mirror; bloody, disheveled, tired yet _alive_ as they were, and Yuuri’s smile only grew in the mirror’s reflection.

“I’m happy.” was all Yuuri hummed back, relishing the feel of those arms tightening around him, the echo in Victor’s chest that said he knew exactly how Yuuri felt.

Victor didn’t let go for a long time, he stood in silence with his forehead resting on the back of Yuuri’s neck, speechless for once in his life, and only after Yuuri’s hands were finally clean did he breathe for Yuuri’s ears alone. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say those words? Do you know how happy _I_ am to hear you say them, Yuuri?”

“Victor…” Yuuri’s heart was in his throat all over again, overwhelmed as he was with Victor’s words, “Let me go now.”

“Don’t want to.” the petulant reply was instant.

“Let me go so I can hug and kiss you properly.” Yuuri tried again.

He didn’t get time to turn on his own, didn’t get time to ready himself for the the full on attention of Victor, hands spun him about the waist, pushed his hips against that shiny porcelain bench, he only got a glimpse of Victor’s all encompassing blue eyes before Victor kissed him, soft and tender with a slow swipe of his tongue across Yuuri’s lip.

Hands wound their way into his with intertwining fingers, squeezed his palms as feelings that no words could even hope to depict engulfed them both, and Yuuri knew he’d finally been able to defeat the solitude seizing Victor’s existence.

Before Yuuri could get into it, kiss Victor back more because it wouldn’t ever be enough; it was Victor who broke the kiss and stepped back with mischief writ on his face, with a smirk and a playful snicker.

“I do recall though, Yuuri, that there’s something you said you’d pay for a few hours ago.” Victor was most dangerous like this, hooded eyes and deep voice that beckoned like a true siren song, as alluring as it was deadly. Yuuri had succumbed to the melody long ago.

“I’ll pay you with interest.” With that, Yuuri led him to one of the spare bedrooms at the end of the long, white walled hallway.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	5. As Cities Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for [kantonliu](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com), who has been doing some amazing fanart for Masquerade and I literally can't thank them enough. Find it [here](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com/post/156185515991/super-scratchy-doodle-kind-of-a-fight-scene) and [here](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com/post/156098030536/captain-erwinmerica-kantonliu-some-doodles) on their tumblr account.
> 
> Once again, thank you for everyones comments and feedback, I'll try to answer things when I can (from the last chapter too :/ 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie when I say writing tension can get draining af, so take this filler chapter that gave me a nice break from writing angst haha.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind Yuuri as he pushed Victor into the room, sealing in their secrets, locking in all the tension that was currently setting Yuuri’s blood on fire all over again.

Victor played along with a feral curl of his lip as Yuuri pushed him again, back onto the double bed in the centre of the room, plain cotton duvet with only a pillow for each person, simple, if not for the most complicated person on the planet currently scooting backwards to settle himself against the headboard.

Still fully suited in all his glory, the pressed line of his dress pants running along the top of his muscled thighs as he spread them in open invitation, tie impeccable with buttons still done up _too_ far, as if to mock Yuuri by hiding the true prize underneath.

Even behind closed doors; Victor sometimes still liked to pretend, liked to _play_ this game where he was the unshakeable Victor Nikiforov who still had every ounce of control at his fingertips, and so he beckoned Yuuri with nothing but hooded eyes and a self assured smirk that _dared_ Yuuri to do his worst. 

There was no way in seven hells that Yuuri could turn down an offer like this, because as intimidating and imposing as Victor was right now, even though it looked like he could order someone’s heart to stop beating without a second thought, like he could make you _want_ to kneel and kiss his feet; Yuuri knew it for the game that it was, because Victor sighed Yuuri’s name then as his need to continue where they left off won over.

And so it was Yuuri crawling onto the bed after him, _over_ him, knees planted either side of Victor’s hips, hands atop the edge of the headboard so he could loom over Victor’s face for a closer look at all that was his. 

He wouldn’t ever get over it, the line of his jaw or the curve of his lip, the flawless colour of his skin or his thick silver eyelashes that only served to draw you in the depths of his person. The lone freckle he had on his left cheekbone, the striations of blue in his irises that _never_ seemed to be the same the next time he looked at them.

“Sometimes, I don’t even think you’re a real person.” Yuuri commented dryly as anticipation lodged in his throat, because _everytime_ the realisation never failed to stun him that someone could actually exist who Yuuri felt this strongly for. It was terrifying.

“You can’t _kiss_ what isn’t real, Yuuri.” Victor prompted then with an amused huff, and then the feather light touch of his fingers found the nape of Yuuri’s neck to urge him close, to bring their lips together in whispers of kisses until it was clear that Yuuri wasn’t going to stop.

Victor’s hand fell away to his side then as Yuuri kissed him deeper, open mouthed and chaste and not quite deep enough for Victor’s liking, it was fun to make Victor clench at the sheets in frustration, fun to have Victor growl as Yuuri pulled away and trailed nips of teeth and kisses down his jaw instead. 

Yuuri pulled at the knot of Victor’s tie as he went to work on the heated skin of Victor’s pulse, tugging at the silk until it came loose enough to let him undo the top button, and the next button after that, and every other button until he got to waistband of Victor’s dress pants.

That’s when Yuuri couldn’t fight the urge to have another look, couldn’t help sitting back on his knees to see Victor’s ravenous gaze staring back at him with impatience and the mask of Victor Nikiforov back with not a hint of anything else underneath; _demanding_ Yuuri to keep going. 

And Yuuri would never fail to _want_ either, to burn from the inside out because Victor’s suit jacket was pushed open just enough to reveal the unmistakable butt end of his weapons in their holsters, still fully loaded and so thrillingly dangerous, then there was his crisp white dress shirt underneath; parted enough to reveal the muscled dip in Victor’s chest, the ripple of his abs as he breathed his lust heavy breaths, a path of perfect skin that in this moment, was _made_ to be worshipped.

Yuuri did just that, let himself be drawn back down by the sight of Victor’ bare skin that was there for the tasting. 

“I think I like this method of you making it up to me.” Victor hummed then as his head fell back against the headboard, as he closed his eyes and relished the feel of Yuuri’s lips lighting fire down his skin.

And Victor _groaned_ , a deep rumble in his chest as he caught on to where this was going, the tented fabric of his pants enough to communicate his own want.

Yuuri couldn’t say who would like it more, the novelty of being able to be spontaneous wouldn’t ever wear off, the notion of just being able to fool around because all they had now was time, time to drive each other to the brink of a different kind of insanity. 

The metallic clink of Victor’s belt buckle seemed obscene in the silence, filthy in what it stood for, agonising as it pooled the tension low in Yuuri’s gut. Victor offered his hips to the ceiling without resistance so Yuuri could pull them down enough to make his heart lose its mind, to reveal the sharp corners of his hips and the muscled V that led down to his briefs, to fully uncover the scar Yuuri had sliced into his skin years ago.

Yuuri always started there, the top of the silvery knit of healed skin, sucking and nibbling his way down as Victor’s fingers curled tighter in the covers, and it was funny how someone so seemingly unbreakable, someone so strong and so collected could _crumble_ in an instant when Yuuri got to the panel of soft flesh below his hipbone. _That_ was always the part that Yuuri liked most, because Victor’s hands found his head then as he gasped, fingers wound their way into his hair, unrelenting in their grip because Victor was never shameless in saying what he wanted, in expressing how good he felt, and it was Yuuri’s pleasure to make Victor want it more than his brain knew how to cope with.

So Yuuri gave his body more slow attention, laves of his tongue that dipped under the elastic band of his briefs as the grip in his hair slowly pulled tighter, as Victor rolled his hips up, opened his legs further and shuddered when Yuuri put him partially out of his misery to mouth at the fabric restraining Victor’s dick. 

He wound Victor up more, as much as he could, he wrecked his breathing, pinned his hips down to make Victor growl once again with frustration and pleasure all at the same time. Yuuri sucked and nipped, running his teeth up the damp material in a mocking rehearsal of what Victor really wanted.

He could feel Victor’s eyes watching his every move now, attentive and rapt on the vision of Yuuri’s pink lips working over the black fabric of his underwear, the contrast of colour no doubt making everything that much easier to see.

And it seemed Victor couldn’t take much teasing today, because the threaded fingers in his hair pulled Yuuri just far enough up for eye contact, for Yuuri to see Victor with his pupils blown, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and that feral smirk back again because he _knew_ Yuuri was going to give him what he wanted.

“You’re horrible, Yuuri, to make me wait like this.” Victor teased, heated and antagonistic as he brought his other hand up to run his thumb along the line of Yuuri’s bottom lip, tugging on it as he spoke. 

“Good things come to those who wait, Victor.” Yuuri teased back, sucking at Victor’s thumb for good measure, spiking the fire in Victor’s eyes because it wasn’t his thumb that Victor wanted Yuuri’s mouth on at all.

Despite the madness in his eyes, Victor still managed to reply with the sincere and heartbreaking voice of the truth, the whisper traveled down Yuuri’s skin; “Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough to have you, Yuuri?” 

Victor’s palm radiated warmth as Yuuri gave in then and leant into the touch, as he kissed Victor’s hand and let himself be swept away all over again. “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, “I think you have.”  


And it was insane, how Victor could make Yuuri want to give him everything with just a word like that, how he could make Yuuri want to spoil him rotten with attention and pleasure and everything that Victor craved. _This_ is why Victor was most dangerous like this.

Yuuri didn’t need the hand in his hair to guide him back down, but it did, it pulled his hair tighter in anticipation as Yuuri pulled Victor’s briefs down at last, as he took Victor’s throbbing dick in his hand and positioned it in front of his lips.

Victor was watching still, brows pinched with restraint as Yuuri thumbed the smooth skin on the underside of his length, pulsing as blood pumped through to make him harder still. 

“Don’t hold back.” Victor quoted Yuuri’s own words back to him, made them a challenge and an order all at once, an invitation for Yuuri to do his worst, because that’s the way Victor liked it.

Yuuri didn’t waste anymore time then, no more teasing kisses and licks, he took Victor completely by surprise as Yuuri wet his lips one last time and then promptly took Victor into his mouth with a slow drag of his lips sealed tight around his girth.

“ _Fuck_.” was all Victor managed then, his grip now painfully tight in Yuuri’s hair as he threw his head back and exhaled an explosive breath. 

“More, take it all in.” Victor urged, and it really was as Yuuri said; Victor wasn’t ashamed to tell Yuuri exactly what he wanted. 

He wasn’t afraid to moan aloud without a care about his volume as Yuuri took him all the way to the back of his throat, he wasn’t embarrassed to bite at his own lip and use _both_ of his hands to cup the back of Yuuri’s head, to rock his hips up and slowly fuck Yuuri’s face in slow, drawn out thrusts.

Victor’s fingers scratched at his scalp as he let out a huff of pleasure, as he bared his neck to the ceiling and let his jaw hang slack with silent words that weren’t in English anymore. 

And Yuuri liked that reaction a lot, he liked the way it twisted the heat in his gut and pooled the tension in his groin, he liked that he was the only person that Victor would give his control to like this.

So Yuuri swallowed him back deep in his throat, massaged Victor’s length all the way up as he laved at the base with his tongue, pulled at the smooth skin with his lips, he did it over and over again as Victor moved his hips, as Victor’s body coiled taut with need, as Victor’s stinging grip drew tears from the corners of Yuuri’s eyes.

“Yesss, like that.” Victor hissed when Yuuri changed rhythm, as he sped up and let Victor pull his hips back before rocking them up to bury himself deep into the heat of Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri knew there was no control left with Victor now, because the steady pace increased, as frantic and needy as the stuttered breaths Victor was taking.

“Ungh, Yuuri.” Victor whispered one last time, and Yuuri didn’t need a warning, because he knew the moments right before Victor came more than Victor did himself. 

All of Victor’s muscled tensed at once as his lower back arched against Yuuri’s face, fingers lost their strength as he pulled at Yuuri’s hair desperately to grind deep in Yuuri’s throat, his breath froze heavy in his throat, and it was all the instant before Victor came with release of all that tension, as his breath raced from his lungs with a rumble of pleasure, as his hips lost rhythm and trembled in the weakness of Victor’s high. 

And before Yuuri could finish swallowing it down; Victor was already in full control of his senses as he tugged Yuuri back up, as he settled Yuuri on his lap, sideways against his chest so he could suck at Yuuri’s neck with fervour, so he could feel the rolling motion of Yuuri’s throat as Yuuri swallowed the last of his release, and that only made Victor more fervent in the attention he gave Yuuri’s skin, because it made Victor crazy with satisfaction that Yuuri took every single part of him.

“You know, I hate that you’re so good at that.” Victor mumbled against his skin after a time, after his breathing evened out and his pulse had slowed, as he cupped Yuuri’s dick over the fabric of his pants and rubbed with his palm only a mocking amount of friction.

“Why?” Yuuri could only question with half of his attention, but Victor stopped then instead, his hand firm around the shape of Yuuri’s own desperate need, his mouth threateningly hot as he blew puffs of air on Yuuri’s skin to raise the hairs on his neck.

“You were that good when we first met, and it makes me boil with jealousy, Yuuri, because you must of learnt with someone else.” Victor confessed with a quiet mutter, dark and greedy and dead serious, once again not afraid to say exactly what he was feeling. “I even killed one of my men when I got back once because I was in such a temper.” 

And Yuuri could only laugh and take Victor’s hand at that, thread their fingers together and kiss him as he faced Victor’s obsession head on with his own. “You’re insufferable.” Yuuri teased. 

It’s not like he could ever reveal exactly where Yuuri had picked up on all these things, the moment Minako found out Yuuri was %100 gay when he was 16 years old was the moment Yuuri’s life became hell. She used to ramble on in the middle of sparring sessions about the perfect way to seduce a man, the best way to con him into giving up everything he owned, or about the best sexual position to be in so you could slit someones throat before they knew what hit them, all the way down to the right way to literally blow someones mind like Yuuri had just done. It was pretty damn hard not to take it all in when Minako used to drill him with questions out of the blue in the middle of fight training, because if he got the answer wrong he’d have to endure that particular lesson all over again. Like Yuuri said, hell. 

No fucking way could Victor ever find that out.

“It’s lucky you think I’m hot then.” Victor chuckled as he ran his nose up behind Yuuri’s ear with a tickle of breath.

Once again, Yuuri couldn’t help himself, because Victor was too easy, too addictive and too adorable when he took the bait. 

“When did I ever say that?” Yuuri cocked a brow as he questioned, laughing the instant Victor gasped and then followed it with his ridiculous heart shaped mouth and watery blue eyes as he whined.

“Yuuuri!” and even as he said it was laughing too, rolling them both over on the bed to pin Yuuri down by the hands with his hands, by the hips with his hips, half hard against Yuuri again already.

When Yuuri said Victor was insufferable it was meant in the best possible way, because now he was looming over Yuuri, eyes alive with a childish expression, and then there was the rest of him, his jacket and shirt hanging wide open to reveal the full expanse of his body, the thick muscles of his chest, the flex of his abs as Victor braced his core to hold himself up, there was so much _strength_ inside this one person, and it drove Yuuri crazy in turn.

“You’re right.' Yuuri eventually said, not afraid to admit this one thing, “I do think you’re pretty hot.” 

Victor’s expression turned into one of triumph in the blink of an eye, self confident and playfully arrogant as he spoke. “I know.” 

It was Victor’s turn to kiss him this time, to take control and kiss him until Yuuri could no longer forget his own aching need. 

“Now that you’ve paid your dues, let me take care of you, Yuuri.”

* * *

It was late morning, after Victor well and truly took care of Yuuri, after a few hours sleep that Yuuri walked back down the hallway in Victor’s shirt instead of his own bloodstained one, and even though it was too big, the scent of Victor on his skin fit just right.

He’d left Victor to sleep, to lay in and catch up on rest because for the last week he’d been the last to shut his eyes and the first to wake, and that was even though Yuuri slept minimal hours himself. He would never forget the image of walking in on Victor in the lounge after Yuuri woke to find the bed empty, standing at the window that looked over the ocean with a searching gaze that was trying to see everything at once, his blue eyes vivid against the dim light of dusk, it would haunt him, because Yuuri hated seeing Victor alone.

The kitchen was empty when he found it, the polished wooden floors cold underfoot as he padded across to explore the cupboards for a glass so he could get a drink and try forge another plan to make it to Phichit in one piece.

The window over the spotless stainless steel bench looked out over the expanse of concrete that Yuuri crossed earlier to get to the house, and from here he got to take in more of the property as he filled a glass from the tap at the sink. 

The garage where they’d left the car was nestled next to another double doored garage, Yuuri could see through the open doors from here, and inside there wasn’t more equipment for Otabek’s trade like he thought there might be, but rows of motorbikes that were all polished until Yuuri could see their chrome accents shining even from this distance.

That would explain where Yurio got the motorbike from to get to their house in the hills. 

There were stacks of spare tyres and pieces of machinery even Yuuri couldn’t name, all well kept and rust free should they be needed for Otabek’s next job, Yuuri guessed. He was halfway through refilling his glass again, looking into the overcast sky into a future that Yuuri couldn’t even begin to predict anymore when the sound of another pair of footsteps entered the kitchen behind him.

Yuuri turned on instinct, put his back to the window because it felt so fundamentally wrong to leave it exposed to anyone, and Otabek just continued into the room, nonchalant as he went to the same cupboard to get himself a coffee cup before setting the jug to boil.

“Coffee?” Otabek asked like this could have been their usual morning routine, like outside this fenced property the Russian Mafia wasn’t turning St Petersburg on its head to find them.

“Thanks.” Yuuri appreciated Otabek’s sense of calm, found himself comforted in the fact that Victor trusted this person.

Time stretched out as the sound of the jug boiling filled the gap, the bubble of water, the hiss of steam as the button flicked back when the water reached temperature, it was easy to be in the same room with Otabek and feel at ease, Yuuri noted. 

“This morning was the second time.” Otabek spoke randomly as he moved about the kitchen with the clink of spoons on ceramic as he made coffee for two.

“Sorry?” unable to follow the meaning, Yuuri looked to Otabek then, who’d stopped what was doing and was looking at Yuuri eye to eye with no intent or judgement.

“This morning was the second time I’ve been scared of someone.” came the blunt admission, Otabek’s expression was impassive, but Yuuri knew at that moment there weren’t any lies hiding anywhere underneath his skin.

“That’s not something I hear very often.” Yuuri brushed it off as a cup of black coffee was handed to him.

“Pfft, from the way Yura was going on about you a few hours ago I wouldn’t believe it.” Otabek gave him a sideways glance as he leant against the countertop.

“Appearances can be deceiving.” was all Yuuri said as he took to looking out the window again, and nothing he’d ever said in his life had been more true than that. 

“Words to live by.” came the quiet agreement, and Yuuri didn’t know why after knowing this person for not even the space of a day that he found that he liked him, maybe because Otabek seemed open enough, maybe he had nothing to hide. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to pick you apart on first sight, and that wasn’t something you encountered very often in his walk of life

“You’re sure you want to involve yourself in this?” Yuuri asked when his cup was half empty, because he wouldn’t tolerate someone joining them with half assed intentions. 

Otabek smirked then, it was small and sly, and there was no way Yuuri could have misunderstood it. “I was already involved. I met with Yakov and Georgi during the week, they gave me a big sum and contracted me to find you… but they never explicitly stated that I had to tell them when I did.” and he let himself have a quiet chuckle as he sipped at his coffee. 

All Yuuri could do was stare back at Otabek, rightfully stunned at the sheer guts it took to deceive such a powerful organisation. 

“Shit was going to hit the fan either way, if I could have given Vitya enough time to slip away then that would have been better, but it was too late.” Otabek shrugged as he continued, seemingly comfortable with telling Yuuri this information, “Yura wouldn’t let up, I made him promise not to do anything drastic, but it looks like you won’t have any trouble with him now.” 

“Why?” was all Yuuri could ask, and Otabek knew _exactly_ what he meant, because you didn’t just help someone and not expect to get anything out of it. 

That was when Otabek turned to face him, his intelligent eyes only now just trying to decipher Yuuri for the first time, to gauge Yuuri’s potential reaction to his next words.

“Victor needs something better to live for, deserves it, which is why I was surprised when I heard it was someone from the Katsuki family, given your history and all. I can tell there’s more to it between you than that, but that’s none of my business.” 

Once again Otabek was just stating facts, it wasn’t accusatory or searching, there was no hidden barbs in the statement, and in this Yuuri appreciated it more than Otabek would ever know. “Plus something tells me you two are worth following.” Otabek added as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

Yuuri shook it, felt the calloused skin and his firm grip, the confidence in Otabek’s person, he would be tough to come toe to toe with if it came to it, but there was no one Yuuri wouldn’t fight now in order to give Victor as much as he’d given Yuuri, as much as he’d given _up_ for Yuuri. 

“Otabek Altin.” he finally said as a proper introduction.

“Katsuki Yuuri.” Yuuri said in turn, and it’d been a long time since he’d given anyone his name with the full intention of revealing who he was.

The hand in his turned stiff in Yuuri’s grasp, Otabek’s arm rigid in alarm as his eyes widened with comprehension. 

“As in Katsuki by blood?” Otabek questioned, unable to hide his surprise and curiosity, an expression Otabek probably didn’t make often.

“Messed up right?” 

“Well shit, even I have to admit that now, this is more complicated than I thought.” with a shake of his head, Otabek cleared away his disbelief as he laughed at himself. “I was right to be scared then.” 

“Only if you go back on your word…” Yuuri drawled low then, feeling his blood simmer at the mere thought of someone betraying not his trust, but Victor’s. 

“I won’t.” was all Otabek could say as he saw some of the ugly truths slip from beneath Yuuri’s facade, it was one thing to know how far Yuuri would go, but it was another thing entirely to see it. 

And Yuuri always did like the reaction he got, too. 

* * *

Yuuri managed to rehash the plan with Otabek while Victor slept, Otebek could smuggle them to Chelyabinsk and get them on a private plane that would take most of their belongings without questions. Once they set foot in Thailand they’d be on their own until they met up with Phichit. 

Otabek would stay behind to tie up some loose ends, try and point the Russians in the wrong direction to give them time, to hold off one enemy long enough so that they could deal with the other, because one of the worst things that could happen would be getting stuck in between the two families at the same time. 

That was a situation in and of itself that Yuuri didn’t even want to think about, and it was down right stupid for him to say, but maybe if he didn’t think about it, didn’t plan for it, then it wouldn’t ever happen. Because things would happen that Yuuri would otherwise spend the rest of his life trying to prevent. 

It didn’t take long at all to solidify a plan of action, Otabek was agreeable to all that Yuuri said, accepting the role of Yuuri’s leadership without complaint. He agreed Thailand would be a place most wouldn’t think to start looking, and given Phichit’s profession, if they were with him they’d most likely know before anyone got close enough to be a threat.

Phichit wasn’t someone who got his hands dirty, more like he was an aid to helping others dirty their own. He was an extremely resourceful information broker, if there was information you wanted to confirm, photos you needed for blackmail or evidence; fabricated or real, then Phichit was the person to go to. If you needed a rumour put out or a rumour confirmed, no one was better than Phichit at playing whispers on the wind. 

Phichit would be full of information that Yuuri needed right now, and the sooner they reached him the better.

He first met the cheerful Thai at University in Tokyo, where Minako had moved with him during his studies so he could better his English, so he could learn business and economics and all the skills needed that would make him qualified enough to run legitimate businesses to cover the lies underneath. It was the fundamental principal of organised crime in Japan after all, his family had multiple assets that were only camouflage, tools to help smuggle and aid in tax fraud, Yuuri had to learn it all, though he could never understand why.

It was his first year that Phichit became one of the only people that Yuuri would call friend, one day during a boring lecture on business law; Phichit had taken the always empty seat beside him with an innocent smile and introduced himself, he hadn’t cared about the rumours surrounding Yuuri’s random attendance to classes, and they’d been friends through thick and thin, through lies and then truths ever since.

If there was anyone that genuinely wanted to see Yuuri happy, to help him no questions asked; it was Phichit.

In the end it was decided that they would make a move tonight, they’d rearrange baggage and gather their strength until nightfall came, have a few more moments of respite and quiet until everything was thrown into action once more. 

With that settled, coffee and porridge cooked by Otabek in his stomach, Yuuri finally gave in to the urge to go and watch Victor sleep, to listen to the rhythm of his breath and watch the flutter under his eyelids, to let the image calm the new forming tension in the back of his mind.

Before he could even make it out of the kitchen though, a foot halfway though the doorway brought him face to face with Yuri Plisetsky who stopped dead in his tracks.

Yurio opened his mouth to make some snide remark, and he closed it again when no words came, he made to poke Yuri in the chest with his finger until he thought better of it after all, until in the end he exploded as all his questions culminated into one single line.

“Oi. Are you a fucking ninja or something huh?” he didn’t shout or snarl, his voice was full of tamed snark as much as it was real curiosity, like he loathed to even be asking the question. 

Behind him through the doorway, Otabek barked a laugh at the kitchen table, loud and booming in his amusement because hearing a question like that after learning the truth was cause enough for it. 

Even Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh under his breath as Yuri looked up and him, serious with his question still. 

“You’ll never know.” Yuuri winked with a smirk.

He left Yurio standing bug eyed and indignant in the hall with Otebek snickering still in the kitchen, lost for words as Yuuri went back to the bedroom to see Victor. 

The sleeping beauty was curled on his side when he found him, hair feathered across the pillow, the sheets tucked under his arm to reveal the top half of his bare chest with his skin flawless agains the white of the sheets. 

Yuuri almost laughed, because how could someone who looked so _peaceful_ and content in sleep like that be so contradictory when they were awake, Yuuri knew there was a storm inside Victor as much as he tried to not let it show, and there was so much about him that Yuuri still needed to learn.

For now he would settle with this as he sat on Victor’s side of the bed to keep watch, because even being in the same room with Victor was worth more than Yuuri could name. 

It hadn’t even been a minute before Victor’s hand shot out with a speed that said he was well and truly awake, before he grabbed Yuuri by his shirt and pulled him down with a glomp against the mattress. 

“You left me.” Victor mumbled as he nestled into Yuuri’s neck, wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s midriff and settled himself in with a sigh.

“Victor Nikiforov, the clingiest boyfriend in existence.” Yuuri stated aloud, even as Yuuri said it he couldn’t help but squeeze Victor back.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” the answer was all breath against Yuuri’s neck.

“Why?” and Yuuri realised he’d taken the bait after it was too late.

“Because it was about time you said I’m your boyfriend.” Victor said, and Yuuri could feel Victor’s lips curve against Yuuri’s skin as he smiled, as he chuckled at his own joke about a game they’d been playing for the last five years that Victor had just finally won.

“You really are insufferable.” 

* * *

Against the odds; their second attempt to make it to Bangkok went off without complication just as Otabek said it would. 

A day and half’s ride with the four of them in Otabek’s four wheel drive forced everyone to talk to each other, for Yuri to give in to his curiosity and ask Yuuri question after question about his footwork and where he learnt to move. 

He didn’t say another word about his relationship with Victor, didn’t say that what they were doing was stupid or fucked like he said it was before, and it made for much more bearable company even if Yuri was still prickly at the best of times. 

Victor and Otabek took turns driving until they got to Chelyabinsk where there was a plane waiting at a private airfield like promised, the pilot didn’t say a word, he knew who he was carrying, and he knew what would happen if he even so much as thought about breathing a word to someone about it.

Threatening someone was always the best way to ensure silence, short of killing them of course. 

So now it was nearly three days later with the three of them driving through the busy streets of Bangkok in an Audi that Victor had paid for in cash, because he had indeed neglected to tell Yuuri one major thing. He hadn’t told Yuuri that he’d liquidated all his assets the same very day that they’d run off together, sold all his stocks and transferred everything to offshore accounts that could finally be accessed now they were outside of Russia. 

“I didn’t want to factor it in to our plans until we could actually use it, and then I just forgot.” Victor had offered with a cheeky poke of his tongue to Yuuri’s exasperation.

Yuuri wondered how many other stops Victor had up his sleeve, how much more actions he’d taken to ensure this ended the right way, he only knew to trust Victor to bring it up when the time called for it.

They eventually found the last address Phichit had given Yuuri, a high rise apartment that looked over the river that flowed through the bustling city, it was next to others of its kind that put the street they parked on in permanent shadow. 

With Yurio keeping an eye on the car; the concierge didn’t question Victor or Yuuri as the crossed the marble floor of the foyer with loud clacks of their dress shoes, suited up all over again, ready for anything to come. 

Phichit’s floor was the third one from the top, and as the ridiculous elevator music that seemed horrible no matter what country you were in played, Victor eyeballed him from across the small space with mirrored walls and soft carpeted floors. 

There was that heat and possession in his eyes, the affection and down right devotion, like just looking at Yuuri was enough to give him all the strength he needed, and as the elevator announced their arrival on the floor with a ting, Victor pulled him in for a peck of the lips, a kiss like only real couples had time for. 

And so Victor hummed his tune next to Yuuri the whole way to Phichit’s door, hummed it even as the buzzer sounded and they stood in wait, he hummed even as the door swung open to reveal the face of Yuuri’s friend who only looked surprised to see them for the barest of seconds.

In a loose cotton shirt and jeans, Phichit’s face transformed into a glowing smile as he recovered from seeing them both standing in his door way.

“Yuuri! I was hoping you’d come.” and Phichit paid no heed to the fact that Victor Nikiforov was standing there next to him, he didn’t question whether they were really together or if they were serious about this.

He just pulled Yuuri into a brief hug before stepping back, that usual smile no where to be seen on his face. 

Phichit was smart enough to put the pieces together to know what the worst case scenario would be, he was close enough with Yuuri to understand that it would be news he didn’t want to hear, and his sorry expression said it all. 

Yuuri felt his stomach drop, felt the involuntary thump of his heart as he thought of all the things that could go wrong going wrong all at once, he felt Victor’s hand take his as they stood there in the hall of Phichit’s luxury apartment building. 

“What is it?” Yuuri questioned even though an answer was the last thing he wanted. 

“Come in first.” Phichit offered a sympathetic smile as he beckoned them in. 

“I have news, and you’re not gonna like it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been taking prompts on tumblr and writing them in Masquerade-verse, just letting people know in case they want to check it out :) 
> 
> I also decided to make a twitter account, @ashidawrites if anyone wants to give me a follow :)


	6. Interlude - Fall To Your Knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There is a hell, believe me I've seen in. There is a heaven, let's keep it a secret._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have fan art of tattooed Yuuri T_T from Kantonliu [here](http://kantonliu.tumblr.com/post/156503509306/mafia-au-masquerade-verse-yuuri-irezumi) and sotimple [here](http://sotimple.tumblr.com/post/156448347670/heres-a-messy-drawing-of-yakuzayuuri-feat) on their tumblr accounts, I am so grateful and lucky, tattooed Yuuri is a blessing, please check them out. 
> 
> As I said on tumblr and twitter, this is a backstory chapter, a lot of people were wanting to know why Victor feels so strongly about Yuuri, and here is a novel as to why. 
> 
> rip me, I never want to look at this chapter again, typos and all that.

 

* * *

Somewhere, someone was prodding at old wounds. Trying to start the same old war.

And Yuuri couldn’t stem the flow of rising unease in his chest that said this might be where him and Victor would be given their last chance to walk away from each other in one piece.

The incident where he’d nearly killed Victor in Hong Kong seemed to mean nothing now, that fresh scar above his hip, that small thread of trust they’d forged was now frayed under the tension of repeated conflict between the two families. Yuuri thought that this might be one of the biggest trials he would ever face, and if he didn’t come out of it alive, then it meant he simply wasn’t strong enough.

Two years since his first _real_ meeting with Victor, Yuuri was 21 years old now, Victor 25, and it’d been an excruciatingly slow six months of someone picking at the edges of their operations, ambushing arms shipments and killing their men without so much as an explanation or cause of provocation. First it was just the containers that turned up empty and bereft of anything inside except rusted metal, bits of old rubbish and the smell of foul play, then it was the men sent to oversee transport that were never contactable again, Yuuri had been given the task of tracking them down and come up empty handed for both weapons and men every time.

It was finding new sources for drugs and weapons and being told that said sources had exclusive dealings with Russians only, it was rumour after rumour from too many ears that said the Russians were offering goods at better prices to people that Yuuri’s family already had dealings with. It was nipping at the ankles, it was the incessant buzz of a parasite in the ear, this irritable thing that wound you up tight until you eventually lashed out to erase the source of annoyance.

Six fucking months of this unceasing, relentless prodding, six months of murder and continued losses, and it was dangerous to even set foot outside of Japan now.

The tension within the family, within Japan; was nauseating, it curled its invisible claws around Yuuri’s throat and applied this unwavering pressure, the kevlar vest he now wore under his waist coat was just another layer to add to his burden, and Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to stop and take a breath of truly fresh air.

Because it all lead back to Russia, to _Victor_. Victor and the Russians who just so happened to be in the city at the same time their tampered with shipment was going through, the Russians; who were reported to be encroaching on territories in Thailand and China that were meant to be the Katsuki’s area of trade and business.

It _all_ lead back to Victor, who was said to be more vicious, more ruthless, more terrifyingly ambitious than he’d ever been before, and growing more so by the day.

That’s how someone wanted to make it look, anyway.

Yuuri had been in constant touch with Phichit for information, messages came from him every day, there was photos and screen shots and emails, there was hard evidence on the Russians whereabouts when things went sour that said that even though they were in the same location; they were busy doing something else.

Most importantly; it looked like the exact same thing was happening to the mafia, and that someone behind it was making it point in the direction of Yuuri’s family.

Those pieces of information presented to Yuuri’s boss, aka his father - who might look cheerful and harmless but was anything but - was one of the things that kept the two families from tearing each others’ throats out all over again, just like they had 21 years ago, months before Yuuri was born. The whole underworld agreed that it was better for the forces of Russia and Japan to leave each other alone, official law enforcement entered the fray last time, and that only made business hard for everyone.

Old wounds indeed.

The other thing was that Yuuri had asked, near _pleaded_ to be the one to talk to Victor. He already had a significant position within the family despite the majority not knowing the truth, he’d laid down his strengths and knowledge in the guise of reasoning as true desperation bubbled in his gut. He’d done it to be the one to liaise with Victor and his men in order to maintain this tepid peace, because it was clear to both sides that this was just a ploy to rekindle old hatred.

Yuuri couldn’t think of anything worse happening, he’d been seeing Victor for two years, and he would be dead set lying to himself if he said that he’d be okay to part ways now, because of this. There were feelings, too many if he was honest, too much time spent day dreaming and wondering what Victor might be doing, too much _thinking_ about him. And definitely too much hoping that Victor was thinking about him too.

There was too much contemplating how far Yuuri would actually go for this, for Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri knew there was a point of no return; and he could see it was fast approaching.

So Victor and Yuuri had maintained a necessary neutrality between the two families, meeting after meeting surrounded by countless men on both sides in mutual territory, their masks plastered on skin tight, true selves smothered in self control even as Yuuri slowly suffocated underneath his own facade.

There wasn’t even any true respite when he still met Victor in the early stages of this impending clusterfuck, they’d have their meetings with people watching every interaction between them, every word and every expression they made with no room for a smile let alone an error. They’d settle what needed settling, and then later on those nights Yuuri would slip out of his hotel for a few hours and meet with Victor so they could fuck their frustrations away.

They hardly spoke, Yuuri couldn’t ever think of anything to say, any words to bridge the silence of growing distance between them, because it’s not like they could _talk_ about it, he couldn’t just ask what was going on, if Victor really knew anything after all, just as Victor couldn’t ask him.

They might as well have said _’I don’t trust you.’_ and walked away right then, the cleanest kind of cut that always hurt the most at the time, but less likely to fester.

The facts were there, but the longer things had remained unsolved, the more they looked for someone to blame, the more they _needed_ someone to blame, the more they started to question the truth of what was right in front of them.

They were both guilty of it, Yuuri knew, and they were both in mute denial that this was the way things were going to end, they were better off saying nothing at all.

So they’d embrace at the door when Yuuri arrived, lost in their own thoughts with weapons still loaded and ready under the thick fabric of their suit jackets, and Yuuri felt desperate. Desperate as Victor squeezed Yuuri against his chest to not let go for the longest time, desperate because Victor looked just as tired as what Yuuri felt, his spark dull with lack of sleep, his smile tight lipped as it curled the corners of his melancholy eyes.

But he still said Yuuri’s name the same, all whisper like a treasure best kept to himself, a sigh from deep within his chest that seemed to release some of the tension in Victor’s wound up demeanour, it wasn’t ‘Katsuki’ behind closed doors, he was still Yuuri to Victor.

And the unease slowly ate away at him from the inside out, because Yuuri was only just starting to comprehend the way his heart clenched at the thought of Victor never saying his name like that again, like Yuuri was something _more_. He was probably already beyond the point of no return.

So they’d always ended up in this urgent, rough sex with bodies as close together as possible, frustrated and horny and much too mindless about each other to differentiate as they fell into bed to alleviate their stress.

The last time they met, Yuuri felt something inside him crumble as he begged Victor for more, for _everything_. He’d had his back flush against Victor’s chest as they both knelt back on their knees, and Victor had clutched Yuuri so hard against his own body, fucked him deeper than he ever had in this illusion that maybe if they merged together like this then no one could hope to pry them apart.

That was two months ago, the last time Yuuri saw him, and that’s also when the rumours about Victor’s newfound temper started.

Yuuri had been confined to Japan for the last two months to weed out any potential snakes on the inside, stuck with no way out as things escalated, and that need to cast the blame onto someone, _anyone_ , had spread to both their families and led to a horrible state of stagnant communication and rising hostility.

And then amongst the irritation and flaring tempers; there was simultaneous breakthroughs.

In a last ditch effort of his own; Yuuri had reached out to all his connections, and Seung-gil, a quiet, hired man who was mostly interested in helping himself, who Yuuri had met on his first overseas trip; had been able to confirm that the underworld in Korea right now was crawling with activity. They were getting ready for something. The Korean gangs were preparing to pounce once the inevitable fallout between Russia and Japan began, eager for the spoils of someone else’s war.

And at the same time, this rather skilled manipulator had sent word out to both families for a rendezvous in Tokyo of all places, the message from the head of the Chung family never said what he wanted, never gave answers, it only said it was time to settle things. Round and around the message went in Yuuri’s head, this riddle that he couldn’t even begin to understand because the Chung family was supposed to be on good terms with his.

The instinct in Yuuri’s gut, in his body and every fibre of his person told him something bad was going to happen at that meeting that was set for two days time.

The timing was too good, too well placed within the friction to be coincidental, Young-soo Chung of South Korea was an old timer, just like Yakov Feltsman who was set to give full leadership of the mafia to Victor any day now, and the eccentric Katsuki Toshiya, Yuuri’s father. Chung was cunning and experienced, and Yuuri couldn’t shake this sense of dread that plagued his sleep.

Because there wasn’t a thing Yuuri could do, this one was out of his hands, out of his _control_ , and that suffocating hand of anxiety around his neck only tightened its fingers. Yuuri’s father himself had decided to go to this meeting.

Yuuri wasn’t going, and he knew Victor was because he’d got word from Victor himself that he was in Tokyo right now, where Yuuri currently lived as he finished the last of his studies.

If things got volatile there would be nothing Yuuri could do to stop the worst from happening, to Victor, and even though he hadn’t grown up with his father, he was still Yuuri’s flesh and blood nonetheless.

So here Yuuri was; currently tossing and turning in bed at his one bedroom apartment with the lights off and curtains shut to the always busy Tokyo night outside, restless as he wracked his brain for something he could do.

It’d been a long time since he felt this weak, this useless, maybe he should just kill Chung before the meeting could even take place.

The sound of traffic in the streets below kept up its constant background noise of honking horns and slamming car doors as Yuuri stared through the dark in the direction of his ceiling, thinking too many things at once as he’d done lately, Victor Nikiforov the first and foremost thing on his mind.

The digital clock on his nightstand read 10:13pm, not that late, but not that early either, he knew it was reckless, there would be eyes everywhere, ears listening, people lurking. It didn’t matter, this was Yuuri’s city, under his family’s control as sure as the port town of Hasetstu was, and he was going to see Victor if he wanted to.

However before Yuuri could even swing out of bed and set his bare feet on the thick carpet; there was a quiet, continuous knock that traveled to his room from the front door.

With a spike of adrenaline and his pulse thrumming, _ready_ , he picked a gun from the draw of his nightstand. Yuuri knew the layout of his own apartment in the dark, knew where his dresser was, where the sofa and coffee table was in the lounge, where the table and chairs were in the dining area enough for him to tread quietly around all those toe breaking obstacles in the dark.

The knocking never stopped, this, subtle yet constant ’thock’ on the wooden door that got louder as Yuuri drew close, until Yuuri was standing behind the door itself, ready to give himself away with the metallic noise of undoing deadbolts and locks.

If it was a visitor that had bad intentions then his door would have been kicked in by now, if it was someone he knew they would have called ahead, it could be anyone, and all Yuuri wanted it to be was Victor, even if he’d never given him his address.

He took his chances with gun in hand.

The metallic clacks as he slid the deadbolts back and turned the locks were jarring in the stillness, and when he pulled the door open on quiet hinges Yuuri let himself take a much needed breath to clear the tension from his body.

Because Victor fucking Nikiforov was standing there in the dim light of the apartment building’s outdoor walkway, hands plunged deep into the pockets of his unbuttoned navy trench coat, its collar turned up at a wicked angle to conceal his face from the sides and back.

A black scarf draped messy about his neck, and still Yuuri had to marvel at the fine suit underneath that jacket and scarf that fit Victor’s body like a second skin. Charcoal blazer and tight fitted slacks showed the powerful length of his leg, underneath, an obsidian coloured waist coat atop his crisp white shirt, and the ever present black tie with impeccable knot and gold tie clip.

Speechless, Yuuri could only gape like a fish out of water as he finally saw Victor’s face, his hair disheveled from sneaking about in the night, flustered cheeks, breath fast, eyes _alive_ as he looked at Yuuri with his heart shaped smile and pounced like the predator he was.

“Yuuuri!” ignoring Yuuri’s gun, Victor _laughed_ in the quiet as he lunged to give Yuuri a bone crushing hug, to shake Yuuri back and forth in an effort to convey his excitement like a puppy reunited with its owner. And it was like in their time apart Victor had already come to all his own decisions, his mind clear, doubt no where to be seen anymore.

“V-victor!” all Yuuri could do was stutter as his heart went a million miles an hour all over again, exhilaration at the sound of his name on Victor’s lips, how it still sounded just right the way he said it. “How? What are you doing here?”

In his night clothes, a loose t-shirt that showed too much of his tattoos and baggy pants, Yuuri had never felt more _naked_ in his life. Standing in the dark at the open door of his apartment with the chill night air creeping in, the sound of the city beyond the doorway, the flashing lights and the possibility that people could see two frames hugging in Yuuri’s apartment if they looked hard enough.

Victor Nikiforov was hugging him in all his suited glory, with all his fabric layers and hidden weapons, his reputation and his name, and yet he was so unequivocally baring _all_ to Yuuri for him to see.

“Don’t you think,” Victor crooned in his ear with a hot breath as he squeezed tighter still, “that if I knew _who_ you were when we met, that I wouldn’t know where you live?” and still Victor didn’t let go, humming in the doorway as he nestled into the top of Yuuri’s hair with a smile.

And that was when Yuuri realised he could breathe too, his body awash with this warm relief as he snaked his arms under Victor’s trench coat and returned the embrace at last.

“True.” Yuuri agreed with a mumble as he shut his eyes, questions forgotten for now.

“You’ve been busy, you look tired, Yuuri,” Victor commented after a time, pulling back to brush Yuuri’s bed hair out of his eyes, “but you’re extremely cute like this, I like it.”

That was a bit more than Yuuri’s heart could take right now, he was too tired to deal with Victor’s blunt observations. So Yuuri huffed in a fluster as he extricated himself from Victor’s arms to shut the door and lock it all over again with Victor Nikiforov inside his actual home, where he lived and slept and thought lots of things about the man in front of him.

“What are you doing here, Victor?” Yuuri queried again as he flicked the lights on to get a better view, his heart afire with the decision he could now see in Victor’s eyes.

“I missed you, Yuuri.” was all Victor said, longing in his tone as he sighed his truths.

That’s when Yuuri knew the point of no return had already been and gone.

* * *

It was about the most risky thing Yuuri could do, letting Victor _stay_ in his apartment in the current situation, but as Victor kicked his shoes off and shrugged out of his coat; Yuuri didn’t want to say anything to stop it from happening, and this was a completely different silence than the ones they’d found themselves in before.

“So this is where you live?” Victor chirped as his blue eyes traveled over the clean lines and modern decor of Yuuri’s apartment, taking in the bullet proof vest thrown on the back of the leather couch, clips of ammunition on the glass coffee table, suit jacket on the back of a dining room chair.

Besides those disarrayed signs of Yuuri’s waning efforts to keep the place tidy, this area was otherwise un-lived in, a tired space that Yuuri couldn’t really relax in. So he stood dumbfounded as Victor took it all in with bright eyes like his christmases had all come at once, that was until his eyes found Yuuri again, standing there barefoot and vulnerable in his own house.

Victor was there in an instant, a gentle kiss on his forehead, a thumb caressing Yuuri’s cheek with a touch so thoroughly tender that Yuuri didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it. And Victor looked _worried_ for the first time Yuuri had ever seen him as he looked Yuuri over properly, brow creased and jaw tight with unspoken concern.

“You’ve been thinking about things too much.” Victor noted as he stepped close, “I could see it on your face last time, you tend to close yourself off when you’ve got stuff on your mind.” and Victor ruffled Yuuri’s hair in an effort to pull Yuuri out of his withdrawn state. “I don’t want you to make that face, Yuuri.”

There was no denying it, no arguing that he didn’t want to show this part of him to Victor either, so he just looked up at Victor, lips pressed in a thin line as everything he wanted to say balanced on his tongue.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything.” Victor didn’t press for more, didn’t press for what needed saying, he probably never would, he’d wait until Yuuri said it all on his own. Instead he just tugged at Yuuri’s loose cotton shirt and noted his low riding pants about his hips.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Victor suggested finally, and he gave Yuuri a little push as he circled him, loomed in close behind and bumped his chest against Yuuri’s back, reverently running his fingers along the patterned skin of Yuuri’s bare forearms, and he’d never touched Yuuri like this before, either. “Lead the way, love.”

Victor didn’t take in the surroundings now as Yuuri walked to his bedroom feeling like some shy teenager as the person he realised he liked so much was following him, eyes set on Yuuri’s back, and it didn’t feel wrong at all to leave himself open like that, defenceless, it didn’t feel like waiting for a knife in the spine, or a gun shot that would never come. After struggling with it for so long, Yuuri knew what this meant.

 _Absolute trust._ Distance makes the heart come to decisions before the head has time to process it, it seemed.

The wide king bed with twisted white sheets was scattered with lamplight, a glowing beacon in the monotone of night, Yuuri craved the succour his soft mattress offered, and Victor could see it too.

With precise movements, Victor started at the buttons of his charcoal jacket, fingers working down one by one until he was pulling his arm out of the sleeves and setting it on the footstool at the end of the bed.

Sleep was the last thing on Yuuri’s mind then, especially with Victor looking at him as he stood there with his holsters uncovered, straps over the top of his black waist coat, metal grips gleaming in the light like an invitation to touch.

Yuuri’s breath froze in his chest all over again as Victor took Yuuri by the wrists, slender fingers encircling all the way around, he raised Yuuri’s hands until his fingers brushed cold steel, leaving them there as Victor dropped his arms back to his sides.

“You do it, Yuuri.” Victor smiled then, gentle and encouraging as he stood there in the soft light. Yuuri wondered how many times Victor would surprise him, because they’d never done this before, either.

So Yuuri did, hands much steadier than they should be, with a life time of practice he pulled the guns from their place and placed them next to his own on the night stand, he loosened the straps and lifted the holsters over Victor’s head, and then he was just Victor Nikiforov standing there in a suit.

Victor hummed the same tune he always did as Yuuri worked on his buttons, first on his waist coat, pushing it back off his chest when he was done, then it was his tie and dress shirt, the cufflinks at his wrists, and then Victor was standing there shirtless, the only thing remaining his dress slacks.

Yuuri would _always_ stare, this time even more so, because Victor was more defined than he was before, the separation of his chest, the lines of his obliques and the ridges of his abs. Relaxed, and yet he still looked coiled to strike at any given moment, his body honed into a weapon in its own right in the months this ordeal had dragged out. Yuuri didn’t need to ask if the rumours of Victor’s new found ferocity were true, not when he could see it for himself.

What he wanted to know was why.

Victor saw the question on his lips before Yuuri could even open his mouth, answering as he unbuckled his belt and promptly let his pants fall to the ground around his feet. “I decided I was getting annoyed with not being able to see you properly, so I did something about it, I think I smoked Chung out before he was ready.” was all Victor offered, so matter of fact as he pushed Yuuri back onto the bed and forced him to lie down amongst the soft covers and pillows.

Yuuri’s heart wouldn’t ever get used to this, and it _raced_ as Victor settled in the bed next to him, his head atop Yuuri’s chest as he snuggled up close to Yuuri’s side to drape his arm over Yuuri’s stomach. Once again, their bodies touching as much as possible.

“Your hearts going crazy.” Victor chuckled, “You act like we haven’t slept together before, Yuuri.” and he teased as he kissed the spot where Yuuri’s heart was beating under his ribcage, snuggling even closer still.

Yuuri was sputtering all over again, hands covering his eyes in embarrassment as Victor reached over to turn the lamp out.

“Sleep well, Yuuri.” and Victor kissed him in the dark before settling back down, chaste and casual in a new blend of intimacy that Yuuri didn’t know he’d needed until now.

Yuuri welcomed this weight on his chest, it was solid and something tangible he could wrap his arms around, something substantial, and it could never be a burden if Yuuri was the one that wanted it in the first place.

He thought he might actually be dreaming already, away in the clouds in this alternate reality where things weren’t as complicated as what he made them, but it was real, because then Yuuri fell asleep.

* * *

Yuuri woke up with that familiar weight bearing down on his hips, a burning in his soul and a fever on his neck, flushed from head to toe with a different kind of desperation gripping his body.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” Victor drawled and nipped at his pulse, _that’s_ when Yuuri properly woke up, yanked from the incoherency of sleep to waking lucidity in a rapid breath as he opened his eyes. Because was Victor bearing his ass down with nothing but his black briefs on, straddling Yuuri as daylight slashed its way in through a gap in the curtain, falling in a perfect line of illumination over Victor’s extremely suggestive position.

Yuuri thought he might still be asleep as he looked up at Victor, his hair in all directions except tidy, his smirk _dirty_ , and his eyes looking down at Yuuri like it was time for breakfast.

Yuuri didn’t even fucking know what the time was, he’d slept in, he knew that much because the sun was out, but he’d needed that bone deep sleep more than he thought, needed this fresh feeling in his muscles and the clear head it gave him. It was all because of Victor who was still on top of him, quite content to watch Yuuri squirm underneath him.

And he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away to check the time anyway, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to turn their gaze away from this. He couldn’t even voice the words ‘good morning’ for fear of the unintelligible noise that might come out in its place, so Yuuri just whined this time, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks with a blush.

“Awake now, hmm?” Victor laughed with a shift of his hips, feeling Yuuri’s hard length press against the clothed crevice of his muscled cheeks, his eyes turning to menace as he did so. “And happy to see me I think.”

“Mm, I am.” He’d been caught too off guard to fight this frivolous Victor, already too far gone after only a few waking minutes, and that only made Victor beam in delight.

“Take this off.” came the near command then, and Victor was tugging at his shirt as he said it, pushing it up Yuuri’s stomach to kiss at his chest, up to his throat, up his jaw as he pulled the clothing up and off and finally came to Yuuri’s mouth to hover with the lure of impending pleasure.

“That’s better,” and it was all hunger as Victor looked down at Yuuri’s body, at the tattooed gods of wind and lightning on Yuuri’s arms, at the chaos imbued on his skin, “so much better.”

The real kiss came then, toothy and rough as Victor bore his hips down, grinding against Yuuri to wind him up until Yuuri couldn’t think, until he was running his hands up the flexing lines of Victor’s thighs, all the way up to snake under the fabric of his briefs so he could dig his fingers into the firm flesh of Victor’s ass.

Victor just growled at that, smiling this wicked thing against Yuuri’s lips before he pulled away an amount that was so teasing it hurt. “Have I ever told you, Yuuri, that I love making you squirm beneath me?”

And oh, when Victor talked like that, low and threatening and full of power, it was the easiest way to make Yuuri short circuit, to have all the fuses in his head blow in a puff of smoke, of course Victor knew this because it was one of his favourite ways to torture Yuuri, to wind him up and make him snap.

“You’re so cute,” Victor cooed in his ear with a hot breath, that puppy dog persona long gone, “do you know that this is what you do to me, when you sit on me like this I want to fuck you so _hard_ that I can’t think straight.”

And Victor just kept rolling his hips back and forward, working the inside of Yuuri’s pants into a sticky mess as Yuuri pulled Victor’s cheeks apart to rub himself against Victor in a desperate dry rut like some sex crazed teenager.

He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d fucked Victor, only because he liked being fucked by him _so much_ more, and that wild animalistic look in Victor’s eye was the reason why. But if this is what he did to Victor, then Victor was stronger than he thought, because Yuuri was powerless in the face of pure temptation sitting on him right now. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that he’d have to test that restraint of Victor’s next time.

“Do you understand what you do to me, Yuuri?” and Victor was on the edge of sadism now, his hips paused, hands caging Yuuri in as he loomed above him to make himself the centre of Yuuri’s world.

“Victor, please.” was all Yuuri could come up with, a moan on his lips as he gave up his inhibitions with a buck of his hips.

He got a conflicted pout in return as the tendons in Victor’s neck grew taut in his restraint, his eyes wild and ravenous and so vast that Yuuri thought he might drown. “Yuuuri, that’s not playing fair.”

“Please.” Yuuri whined again, turning to nibble at Victor’s wrist because he didn’t know what to do to make Victor give him what he wanted.

Victor cursed then as he snapped in turn, pupils blown like Yuuri knew his own would be. “Fine,” Victor lowered himself to rumble at Yuuri’s throat, a heated warning of danger on his skin, “I’ll make you cum like this then.”

True to his word, Victor did. Their bodies rolled together in a spell of lust, Victor’s hand moving between them to pull his dick out from the top of his waistband, slick and hard in his grip as he tugged at his length in a show for Yuuri to see.

And that was too much for Yuuri to take, watching Victor Nikiforov ride him as well as get himself off at the same time, so with one last maddening rock of his hips Yuuri came shamelessly in his pants, pulling Victor down with all his strength in a desperate bid for friction and something to be inside of.

His fingers dug further into Victor’s skin as he practically mewled Victor’s name, bliss flooding his veins as his toes curled in the sheets. And then it was listening to Victor’s hoarse breath as his hand moved faster, hearing it catch and stutter in his throat as he sat back, eyes shut with all his muscled coiled under tension.

Rapt, Yuuri watched Victor’s hand moving faster, his hips bucking into his closed fist, stomach muscles clenched, Yuuri saw the moment Victor’s body unraveled as he groaned this primal noise with a release of breath and came all over Yuuri’s body.

Then it was the rapid rise and fall of chests as they took time to breathe, panting as they came back to common sense and self awareness.

“Good morning, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled at last as he looked down and saw the mess he’d made.

“Good morning.” Yuuri mumbled back, cleaning up could wait, he still didn’t even know what the time was.

“You look refreshed.” with a rush of air, Victor fell back down next to him to make himself comfortable again.

Yuuri found the shirt they’d thrown aside and scowled when Victor laughed again as he watched Yuuri wipe himself off, the uncomfortable mess in his pants would have to wait for a shower.

“Don’t make me throw this at you.” Yuuri warned as he found his bearings for the first time in months, and he couldn’t help giving in again he realised why, “but I am, thanks to you.” he threw the shirt away then in favour of another good morning kiss. Victor welcomed it with a pleased hum and open arms.

“You’ll need to be for when we meet Chung-”

Victor hadn’t even finished his sentence before he felt Yuuri stiffen for an entirely different reason, that happy morning feeling gone, his rigid walls back up in an instant as Yuuri was forced to remember the helplessness still to come.

“What is it, Yuuri?” Victor asked, flat and cautious.

And it was now or never if he wanted to start talking to Victor about these things, about working together, about helping each other, about trusting each other.

“I’m not the one going this time, Victor.” there was no such thing as never, Yuuri decided it would have to be now.

That didn’t mean that Victor was going to like what he had to say however, it didn’t even mean he would understand, because he looked up to Victor then, who was staring back at him with a blank look on his face like Yuuri had just spoken a language he couldn’t understand.

“Why not?” came the query, like Victor shouldn’t even need to ask such a simple question.

Given in to the notion of talking, Yuuri answered with a resigned breath, “Because it’s complicated.” and Yuuri wasn’t lying when he said that, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone who didn’t know the truth about Yuuri, as competent and capable as he was he was still considered adopted into the Kastuki name, not blood by any means.

They would sooner send Mari than Yuuri, a known legitimate child who was busy running their family operation in Osaka all on her own.

“Nope, I won’t have it.” Victor frowned then with an interruption to Yuuri’s thoughts. “You’re coming and that’s final.” and it was clear he’d made up his mind on something he’d planned in the blink of an eye, Yuuri saw it all.

“Victorrrr.” Yuuri warned again, “you can’t, it will look suspicious.” and even as he said it, Yuuri was still hoping Victor could pull it off.

“It won’t seem suspicious if I’m not lying, Yuuri.” Victor spoke low, serious as he fixed his eyes on Yuuri with the full force of his next words. “I’ll contact your family and say that I don’t trust anyone but you to come, I’ve been dealing with you this whole time, it makes sense, so they’d better get it right.”

Yuuri couldn’t find his next words as they died on his tongue, surprised once again with the ease that Victor said things that Yuuri struggled to even think about. “How can you say that so easily?”

Victor ruffled his hair, pushing it away from Yuuri’s eyes as that same look Yuuri had seen last night crossed Victor’s face, resolution.

“Because, it _is_ easy, Yuuri.”

* * *

It was only 15 minutes after that, after a brief shared shower and time enough for them to both get dressed that they found themselves standing in front of Yuuri’s door again, both ready in their three piece suits and ties as they used this day to prepare for tomorrow.

And in the quiet Yuuri finally came to the decision that he needed to give something back to Victor to show his own trust, however minuscule the gesture might be. So as Victor pulled on his navy trench coat, Yuuri stepped forward; shy all over again, and he really should be over it this late in the game, he probably would be with anyone but Victor.

With fast hands and all of his skill, Yuuri slipped his hand into Victor’s breast pocket before Victor could see what it was he was giving him, choosing to step away and stare at the floor as Victor made a puzzled noise and looked what it was.

Yuuri heard the surprised gasp before he felt Victor crush him in a hug all over again, those blue eyes big and watery as he smiled his ridiculous smile, “Yuuuuri!” Victor near sung, “You really are the best.”

Victor squeezed him tight, forcing the air from his lungs as he protested about Victor crumpling his suit, and who would have thought the key to his apartment could make Victor so happy.

“Let yourself in next time.” Yuuri said at last, hoping there would be one.

It was only after Victor left that Yuuri realised the danger they’d both been in last night, and he realised he was _terrified_ of it as he came to grips with one of the worst things that could have happened, worse than the last 6 months, worse than tomorrow, worse than even being found out. Worse than all of the above put together.

There was no thrill to it this time, only dread and sickening cold sweats that left him short tempered for the rest of the day, brooding and determined. He’d found a resolution of his own now, and if he’d made this choice then he was going to stick with it, he’d just have to be strong enough to stop the worst that’d nearly happened.

Because not ten minutes after the door shut behind Victor; Minako came knocking, wondering why he was late.

* * *

Of course Victor Nikiforov got his way, half the higher ups protested, half agreed that sending Yuuri would be better, only because he was more disposable than the head of the family. Thankfully, no one voiced that it was questionable or suspect of the Russian to request Yuuri to attend alongside him. It’d spread through the family that Yuuri was good at dealing with Victor, and Yuuri couldn’t help laughing to himself, because the truth was that he was horrible at dealing with the _real_ Victor, the blunt, charming, childlike Victor that could make Yuuri - someone with a fearsome reputation of his own - blush at the drop of a hat. He really should do something about that.

As it were, Yuuri was the one at the meeting now, and everything about it was so incredibly _cliche_ that Yuuri wanted to slam his head against a wall. Old school through and through; Chung requested a man from each party to come alone to an abandoned shipping warehouse amidst others of its kind in the industrial area next to Tokyo Bay.

They could have met at a classy casino, a low key bar with quality liquor, a traditional Japanese ryokan for dinner at least, but no, Chung had made his intentions clear by making it a warehouse, because you couldn’t shoot anyone at any of the places Yuuri thought of.

So here we was in the crisp mid morning air, wrapped in the layers of his multicoloured skin, his classic black suit and tie, bullet proof vest and thick double breasted overcoat to conceal its protective bulk. Impatiently waiting with men positioned in the area who’d been given _explicit_ orders not to move until he said so, just like Victor would tell his own men as they’d planned.

Yuuri stood in the large square of sun that fell into the warehouse through the giant roller door, looking at the inside of the building that was empty of everything except cobwebs, rat droppings and old shipping containers that were placed far too strategically for Yuuri’s liking.

Shadows lurked in the corners, behind each container, waiting in the smell of old rust and concealed deceit. It made Yuuri’s skin crawl, had his fight instincts rearing to retaliate before there was even a real threat. There was plenty of room to move if he needed it, plenty of shadows to make his own, beckoning him just as much as they threatened him.

None of the containers were placed to provide a covered escape, all set back far from the door in an expanse of exposed concrete. The sensitive skin behind Yuuri’s shoulder blades itched, and still Yuuri waited in the maw of the giant building filled with dark colours of ill intent.

The steady rhythm of composed footsteps brought Victor to him next, his expression forbidding, jaw rigid, eyes set to kill. He looked to Yuuri as he arrived, a walking representation of the Russian Mafia, classy designer suit, black on black, polished shoes, shoulders set wide that tapered down to a trim waist.

He looked _dangerous_ , menacing, the definition of intimidating, and Yuuri thought he was fucking beautiful.

“Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?” Victor questioned in a drawl, not daring to risk letting any of his affections slip through.

So they walked side by side into the warehouse to wait, the silence between them companionable, which was probably not what Chung was expecting.

You couldn’t see it on his well aged face as he walked in however, the silver wisdom of old age streaking the black hair at his temples, his grey eyes sharp and clever, and he was wearing a suit just as well fitted as Yuuri’s own.

He didn’t bother to greet them as he strode in, steps confident, chin held high as more men walked in behind him, Yuuri counted ten, his mind taking a hundred different paths as the thought of options, if he just killed them all now…

“I thought we were meant to be coming alone?” Victor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he tapped his foot, his tone empty of any mirth the gesture offered.

The small framed Chung only smiled back, “I never said anything about me not bringing anyone.” he turned to Yuuri then, looked him up and down, and Yuuri could _feel_ himself being weighed and measured in the space of time it took, instincts screaming as the moment stretched out. “So Toshiya sent the young one after all.” came the quiet observation.

“What do you want, old man?” Victor cut in with an impatient sigh, clearly provoked by the way Chung looked at Yuuri, at Yuuri’s slicked back hair, at the intelligent glint of glasses, “You’ve cost me men and money, and valuable time I could have spent in bed with my significant other. The only reason you’re not dead is because I want to know what you’re up to.”

Victor wasted no time getting down to the thick of business as he usually did, and Yuuri had yet to say a word, still thinking rapidly about the possibilities of the situation, and he didn’t like any of them. The pressure in the warehouse grew with every heartbeat, the increasing volatility pulling at peoples’ nerves.

“You’re not the one I’m here to talk to, boy.” and Yuuri had to give it to the old man, who was still as composed as ever in the face of the gathering storm in Victor’s eyes.

It was with that that Yuuri’s suspicions were confirmed, that he _knew_ that Chung was here for the mafia’s blood. When the conflict spread 21 years ago; Chung’s family took a large loss as they got caught in the crossfire, Chung’s wife, his oldest son, all blood on Russian hands, they would have been completely wiped out if it weren’t for Yuuri’s family.

 _’Time to settle things.’_ the missive had said, and that’s when it all fell into place, 21 years later, Chung had tried to start a war all over again and failed in his repeated attempts, this was his last ditch effort.

Chung’s men gathered behind them in a barricading semicircle, eyeing Victor and Yuuri alike as the air sharpened with the promise of bloodshed.

“This is a waste of time.” Yuuri finally put in, tone as cold as the air around him, and he was irritated that he hadn’t seen this earlier, _frustrated_. He wasn’t seeing reason as well as he should, all he could think of was that someone had tried to make him _fight_ with Victor. “The past is in the past, you think to provoke my family into something you’re not strong enough to do on your own?” and Yuuri got closer to boiling point with every word, feeding off Victor’s simmering temper beside him.

Things were spiralling into the wrong direction faster than Yuuri could have predicted, the shadows dancing in the corners in a call for violence as the moment hung on the precipice of chaos.

Young-soo Chung obviously wasn’t here to talk much at all, because Chung just shrugged this impish shrug, leering at them both in turn as the pack of men shifted in anticipation, not as confident as they were two seconds ago. “I thought if Toshiya came he would be more amiable to using Mr Nikiforov’s life here as means to secure an alliance.”

“Alliance?” Yuuri deadpanned with a grit of teeth as he bit back a snarl, “after you killed our men as well?” _’after saying you want to kill Victor.’_ was what Yuuri really thought. With each word spoken; Yuuri shuffled as subtle as he could in Victor’s direction, eyes locked on the men in front of him, waiting for the first move to come.

“Ah, an oversight on my part, I didn’t think things would remain civil between you this long enough to be found out. Heh.” Chung chuckled to himself like this was still all a joke, as crazy and eccentric as Yuuri’s own father.

Every muscle in Yuuri’s body screamed as Chung looked at him, decades of hate and dreams of revenge in his age old eyes, “You needn’t be involved in this, I get Victor there, and you get to walk away. Toshiya would understand.”

That’s when Yuuri’s body made the decision of how far he’d go for this on its own, moving on instinct alone with his thoughts far behind as the air in warehouse finally exploded with the abrupt thunder of gunshots firing from a single barrel in rapid succession.

“No!” Yuuri launched himself into the barrel’s line of fire with a powerful spring off his legs, angry, desperate, _scared_ that he wasn’t fast enough. And as time slowed between life and death as it always did, as he flew through the air, as the bullets hit one by one; Yuuri came to the conclusion that vest or no, he still would have made the exact same choice.

Yuuri hit the ground with a muted thump, glasses thrown off his face, half wheezing, half groaning as he doubled over on himself in a crumple of fabric and limbs, oblivious to the shocked silence in his struggles not to pass out. Because once again, vest or no, he’d still been shot at close range and it still fucking hurt like a jackhammer to the chest even if the bullets hadn’t reached his skin.

Yet through it all, he managed to roll over and glare at Chung, who finally looked surprised, who finally knew he’d made an error in underestimating Yuuri.

“I’m not him,” Yuuri coughed his declaration, his mind clear as he was finally able to speak what his heart wanted to say, “and Victor is _mine_.”

He thought that dying might have been better, pain ricocheting through his body as the pathetic sound of his wheezing filled the warehouse, and as he lay there with tunnel vision and distorted hearing; he was well aware of all eyes on him. Of Victor’s eyes on him lying there at his feet, telling Victor everything he wanted to know with this one action.

“Yuuri, you…”

It was in the same ominous silence before a storm, in a quiet lull of temporary peace that Yuuri was glad he’d never made an enemy out of Victor Nikiforov, because Victor looked down at Yuuri, he saw that Yuuri had offered everything in order to keep this thing between them, to keep Victor _safe_ , and in turn; Yuuri saw Victor lose control.

Victor’s eyes were glowing with menace as he looked up and smiled again, this malicious curve of his mouth that showed his perfect white teeth.

“You shot my Yuuri.” was all he offered in explanation before he walked forward, not hurried, not slow, but at his own pace as he pulled his weapons with sickening speed and opened fire in the face of everyones shock.

Yuuri watched with blurred vision as Chung toppled to the floor with a shout, clutching at his knee caps that Victor shot out one after another with well aimed precision.

Then, he was amongst the rest of Chung’s men, unfazed even as they rushed him all at once, none of them stupid enough to fire a weapon amidst comrades.

It was terrifying how Victor made murder look like this graceful dance, a glide in his step before striking out with his pistol to crack someone’s nose, a spin of his body to kick out behind him and break ribs with his heel even as he fired at the man in front of him.

But Yuuri only counted three dead when it looked like Victor would be overwhelmed, because no matter what anyone said; ten against one weren’t realistic odds no matter who you were.

How ridiculous would it be for Yuuri to save his life only for Victor to get himself killed moments later, Yuuri mused to himself as struggled to sit up.

The shouts and grunts of the scuffle echoed through the building, the ruffle of fabric, the sound of blows landing as Victor edged closer and closer to madness.

It was the glinting steel of a knife that had the fog from Yuuri’s brain dissipating, the sharp edge that caught the sun as one of the men pulled it from his coat to lunge at Victor from behind. With every ounce of skill he had; Yuuri found his own weapon and took aim, shooting a leg out even as cringed at the thought of accidentally hitting Victor.

The man went down to a knee as he cried out, clutching at the bloody hole in oblivious panic, Victor saw the opening and sneered, dropping his weapons to take the man’s horrified face in-between his two palms and twist his neck with a violently sick crunch of snapping vertebrae.

Yuuri managed to take out one more at the same time, his aim steady to hit a bullseye to an unsuspecting temple, the man dead before he hit the ground.

And then Victor was standing amidst scattered bodies with three men left, hungry for a fight with blood spattered across his face in a breath taking contrast between the deep shade of red and the pure hue of his pale skin.

Yuuri would never understand the primitive instinct that kicked in sometimes that gave men too much pride to fight with a gun at moments like this, like fighting barehanded would somehow give them extra merit when it would only get them killed.

Victor caught the first charging man in the chest with a swift front kick, his leg raised high as he leant on his back foot to lash out with his heel and rip the air from the man’s lungs. The man tumbled back with groan, scattering the other two, and Victor wasted no chances.

Then it was Victor pulling an incoming fist into his body, using the momentum to bring the man close and sweep his foe’s feet out from underneath him. Yuuri swallowed hard as he watched Victor hold onto the man’s wrist and stomp on his shoulder as he fell, the pop and crack of breaking joints loud even as Victor stomped again and again.

And Victor kept going, _mindless_ , the rise and fall of his foot mashing the man’s face, his teeth, his nose, he kept going even as the last man came to his senses with the display of brutality to realise he wasn’t going to win. His hand had only just reached the inside of his pocket before Yuuri took him out, a shot to the chest, a shot to the neck, one last shot to his face as he pulled the trigger three times over.

It was only when there was no movement, no one standing, only the sounds of men in pain and the bubbling breaths of the victim of Victor’s wrath that Yuuri let himself fall back down, his own breathe shallow and rapid as his ribs screamed.

He could hear Chung grumbling in agony, halfway between conscious and aware as pain controlled him, he could hear Victor stop, feel the weighted void of silence as Victor came back from wherever he’d gone in his rage.

With his cheek pressed against the welcome cold of the concrete, Yuuri watched again as Victor knelt with bleeding fists and empty eyes to pick up his guns, jaw set, the face of Victor Nikiforov on again, perfect in its impenetrable obscurity.

Victor gifted a bullet to each, not saying a word as he finished them all off to leave Chung for last, and he stood over the old man, impassive in all his power with shadows that belonged to him, and he pulled the trigger with explosive cracks from the barrel, unflinching against the recoil.

Victor emptied both clips of ammo into the now dead body, pulling the trigger even as the empty click of no more bullets took place of live rounds.

“And Yuuri is mine.” Victor finally declared, there was this new sheen to his ocean blue eyes, possessive, greedy, protective, _manic_ , and Yuuri knew it was all for him.

They hadn’t just crossed the line, they’d erased it from existence.

Because Victor ran to Yuuri then, falling to his knees before he even stopped running with slide of his knees on the concrete. He pulled Yuuri up, _frantic_ as he cradled Yuuri’s face in between his warm, shaking hands, and he looked at Yuuri like he was the one who’d been shot, his face a twist of agony as he slowly checked Yuuri over.

Yuuri could hear Victor’s rapid breath as they both sat on the floor with corpses surrounding them, the morning air back to its usual temperature now that the chaos had passed. Their men would be here shortly, no one in their right mind would hang back at the sound of that much gunfire. “That’s twice you saved my life.”

“Victor…” and why did Yuuri never know what to say when it came to the most important moments of his life, speechless in the face of Victor’s tender expression.

“This is why I trust you, Yuuri.” Victor whispered, his eyes shut in pure relief that Yuuri was otherwise not actually dying.

“The vest, it was nothing.” he rebuffed those valuable words, stubborn, disbelieving that Victor could put so much faith in him.

“It would have made no difference.” and once again Victor knew Yuuri better than he knew himself, his smile _real_ and heartfelt as he pulled their faces closer.

“So don’t do it again, because you can’t do something so selfless like that and then be selfish enough to leave me behind, Yuuri.” Victor was grumbling now, lips pouting even as his eyes grew watery with overwhelming affection.

“I can’t make any promises about that.” and Yuuri had only just regained his breath for Victor to steal it all over again as he crushed Yuuri against his chest with a half laugh, half sob, Yuuri couldn’t help but do the same as he clung to Victor, everything else in the world meaningless now apart from the person in his arms.

“Then stay close to me, Yuuri.” Victor whispered in his ear, speaking the words they’d always wanted to say, turning it into something real that Yuuri already knew he would do anything for.

“I’m stuck with you now, aren’t I?” Yuuri chuckled, falling further and further into this dream that’d already come true, the stark reality of mayhem surrounding them would follow them both everywhere from now on.

“Yep, I’ll never leave.” was all Victor said.

And there was nothing in Yuuri’s life that he’d ever wanted to hear more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> p.s I forgot to say I wrote a side story on posted it on tumblr, but I wasn't sure if I should put it here or not, so [here it is](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com/post/156573008463/masquerade-side-story-stay-close-to-me)


	7. A Breath Of Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Who will fix me now? Dive in when I'm down? Save me from myself, don't let me drown._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bombs = dropped
> 
> it's 1am, there's gonna be some mistakes, my bad.

Everywhere Yuuri looked in Phichit’s high end apartment with its sharp lines and crisp colours; there were signs of his profession. Two lap tops on his marble kitchen bench, multiple phones on his black glass coffee table, forged documents and fake passports underneath a thick stack of cash on the corner of his leather sofa. Multiple internet routers flashed in a cabinet on the wall for different IP addresses, he could see there was everything someone needed to be one of the best information brokers around. 

Right now Yuuri felt like knowing Phichit was more a curse than it was a blessing, his information wouldn’t be wrong, and with Phichit’s last words echoing in his head; just this once Yuuri was hoping Phichit would be. 

They followed Phichit into the open plan living area that looked over the city with floor to ceiling glass panels in place of walls, the space was lived in, there was organised clutter and _warmth_ with sunlight falling in onto the shag pile rug, and yet all Yuuri felt was cold dread as Victor followed close behind him, ominous in his silence.

Phichit didn’t offer them drinks or pleasantries, only his sorry smile as he bid them to sit on the sofa adjacent to the one he sat on. Victor sat with his thigh pressed hard up against Yuuri’s, his hand atop Yuuri’s leg in an unconscious need to touch, to reassure incase it might be needed.

And Victor was always give and never take, Yuuri could see Victor’s tense shoulders, feel each of Victor’s fingers squeeze into the muscle of his leg, could see his sharp jaw clenched with anticipation. It was his eyes that were the most forbidding, beautiful, blank voids of blue that he’d use to try and hide his reaction, because it wouldn’t do anyone any use for him to lose it here. Victor knew it the most.

Still, even Yuuri could see the turbulence underneath, that primal chaos that always lurked beneath Victor’s tight grip on control. The thing that Yuuri had created.

Yuuri knew why Victor was so close to him now, knew why he looked ready to bring Yuuri into his arms at any given moment, knew why he looked ready to roar, ready fight tooth and nail and _win_. It was because Yuuri looked exactly the same, _felt_ exactly the same. The monster that was his feelings for Victor pounded in his ears, set all consuming fire to his heart, and there wasn’t anything Yuuri wouldn’t do to protect Victor, not just the person, but his name, his decision to run away with Yuuri, so he braced himself to be ready for whatever Phichit said next.

Phichit only gave Victor a brief dip of his head in acknowledgement towards Victor, unsettled under the pressure the pair of them were exuding as one, the air was heavy, the silence viscous. Phichit would know that Yuuri would want him to get it over and done with.

Phitchit opened his mouth once, seemingly couldn’t find the words to say that would make it easy for them to hear, and them promptly shut his mouth again. 

“Phichit, you know I can handle it.” Yuuri urged, as gentle as his own state of unease would allow.

But Phichit only nodded at that, gave Yuuri a brief look that said _‘I know’_ before he flicked his gaze to Victor for a length of time that told Yuuri that it might be Victor who was the one that couldn’t handle it. Everyone knew of Victor’s rare but unforgettable moments of absolute ruthlessness when it came to business, to exercising power, especially when people tried to stop him from getting what he wanted.

Phichit hadn’t known anything about them until all this happened, and of course like everyone else he’d seen the truth the moment he saw Victor and Yuuri standing side by side at his door. He’d have all the details of what happened in St Petersburg by now, he’d know what they’ve already been through, he’d know what he was about to tell them was going to be a whole lot worse. 

His friend gave up a sigh in the end, unwilling to be the one to deliver something Yuuri didn’t want to hear. 

“Yuuri, I’m sorry. Your dad… he put word out only this morning. The family secret’s out with a price on your head. He said that anyone who brings back the son of the Katsuki family alive gets cash and will be in your family’s favour.” Phichit swallowed, mouth dry as he saw the hellfire tempest in Victor’s eyes, hesitant as he saw Yuuri bite back a savage snarl. “My phone has been going nonstop, Yuuri, any family, clan, gang or group worth their weight are on the move, and they’re all hunting you…”

Phichit trailed off, the bandaid ripped clean off with the sting still biting at the volatile atmosphere that battered at the following silence.

Yuuri couldn’t say whose grip on whose leg was stronger, more rigid and bruising, the veins and tendons atop Victor’s hand popped out of his skin with the strength Victor was barely controlling. And Yuuri couldn’t feel a _thing_ because he’d blanked so far out from his own emotions in order to process the shit storm on the horizon, he knew his own hand on Victor’s leg was probably doing the same. Gripping tight onto control that Yuuri felt was slipping through his fingers with each passing second. 

“What about Victor?” Yuuri eventually asked as his only priority made him realise there’d been no news about its namesake at all. 

Victor didn’t seem to hear the mention of his own name, he sat in his own private storm that was raging in his head, calculating and plotting his way out already.

Phichit looked to each of them again in turn, choosing to look at Yuuri in the end as he sighed again in regret, because with his next words he lit the match that would truly set the world on fire. “There is no news from Russia so far on Victor, but word is your father said that Victor isn’t needed, and that he’d rather you be separated from Victor sooner than later…. by any means necessary.” 

Yuuri had never been shell shocked by a set of words before, not like this, not thrown into this state of internal uproar that felt like he’d been forced under water. Distorted hearing and tunnel vision, all his instincts of fight or flight assaulted each other. Yuuri wouldn’t say he was angry, he wouldn’t say he was scared, because they were just _words_. And what he was feeling now couldn’t be defined by something so simple as that.

Next to him, Victor was on the edge, he could hear the deep, calming breaths Victor was taking, feel him _shaking_ with restraint, he could see everything that Yuuri was currently felt playing out in his eyes.

Ever patient and understanding as he’d always been, Phichit waited for them to process it, for them to come to grips with the reality of them against the world. 

“How much?” Victor eventually said, and it was nauseating how utterly _calm_ he sounded, like he had it all together, when the truth was Yuuri knew it was anything but. 

There was only one thing worse than _killing_ Yuuri that could happen in Victor’s mind, and that was someone trying to take away what was his, someone trying to take his driving force, take away all that he lived for and the only thing he would die for. In Victor’s mind, not even something like death could part them, so to try and come in between them now, to take Yuuri away from him, possessive and greedy over his treasure as Victor was; would only incite unstoppable madness.

Phichit looked at Yuuri then, grave and shaken and Yuuri only just realised now; _angry_ that his friend would have to go through this, “That all depends on his state of well being, apparently.” 

In the loud crack of Victor’s fist slamming against the top of the glass topped coffee table; in the violent eruption of tension into a cacophony of scattered items and cracking glass; Victor’s control collapsed all at once with a snarl as he snapped. 

And he was _murderous_.

That was the only word that could describe him now, taking Yuuri away from him was one thing, but to hurt him in the process too? Yuuri almost felt sorry for the people stupid enough to try, except it was just the two of them, and there would much much more than that who would be trying in the end.

Victor was on his feet now, pacing as he glared out the window to the city below like people were already out there, stalking them, closing in and threatening their time together that they’d waited so long for. 

“I’d like to see them try.” and the smile on his face was vicious, feral as it challenged the world at his feet, his voice low, hot, _taunting_. 

He was positively brooding as he stepped back and forth in front of the glass pane, already wanting the fight to start because he needed something to lash out at, something to crush in his clenched fists and trample under his heavy footfalls. 

And Yuuri hated to see him like this, so wound up with the thought that they might ever be apart, so now it was Yuuri’s turn, he met Victor mid stride in front of the window, Phichit forgotten as he took Victor’s hands in his and brought them to his face, kissing those knuckles that wanted to unleash fury one by one. “Victor, I’m not going anywhere, remember what I said?” 

There was one breath, two, and Victor’s fists slowly unfurled, fingers caressed each side of Yuuri’s face as Victor _looked_ at him properly with a final exhale to let his rage out, the sparkle in his eyes came back and he smiled at last. “I know, Yuuri.” and it was all relief in his sigh as he leant down to touch foreheads. “I know that more than anyone.” 

“More than me?” Yuuri teased, snickering as Victor finally gave it all up with a smirk of his own and laughed with him. People had tried to pry them apart before, and there was no way that Yuuri would let anything come between them again. Even thinking about the way they ended up last time made Yuuri grit his teeth, it wouldn’t happen again, especially when the threat wasn’t even here yet.

“More than you.” Victor confirmed with a hum as Yuuri put his own hands on Victor’s cheeks to calm him further, and it was moments like this: bathing together in the sunlight in front of the window that made it all worth it. Seeing Victor’s eyes shut in serenity so close to his, knowing the way he was the only one who could comfort Victor like this, knowing he was the only one Victor wanted to be comforted by in the first place.

“Good.” Yuuri agreed then, sliding his hands down to Victor’s neck to feel his pulse as he did so, and it was steady now, not thundering as it would have been before. 

“I’ll get Yuri, he needs to know what he’d gotten himself into at least.” Victor said in the end, placing a kiss into Yuuri’s palm before he stepped back and set his cobalt gaze to look over the city again, grim determination writ on his features.

With the chaos passed, Victor looked to Phichit finally with an honest expression. “Thank you.” 

Yuuri’s friend only waved it off, “I don’t need thanks for helping my best friend.” Phichit offered as he looked to Yuuri again, his expression switching to a mischievous one, “he used to tell me to come to him with any information about yo-“

“Phichit, no!” Yuuri cut in, “no no no no.” He spoke over top of Phichit as his friend gave it up and laughed at Yuuri’s indignant blush.

“Haha, Yuuri, you’re still easy.” and his friend was giggling on the couch, looking across at Victor who was looking at Yuuri in mock surprise, eyes wide and mouth forming that cute ‘O’ as his jaw dropped.

Victor stalked back towards him then, sly and absolutely delighted with the turn of events. And he was smirking something self righteous as he found himself in front of Yuuri again, it was at this point Yuuri wanted to fucking bury himself. 

“Oho? You like me that much? You’re so cute, Yuuri.” Victor crooned, chuckling at Yuuri’s flushed cheeks as he craned his neck and leant down to whisper in Yuuri’s ear, “It’s okay, I was doing the same.” 

It was a given they’d know as much about each other as possible given their families history, family would always keep tabs on other families after all. Victor had known _everything_ about him from day one, just as Yuuri had about him. But after they got together Yuuri had kept receiving information about Victor out of pure addiction, because even when he was apart from him he still wanted to know everything about him. 

So Yuuri could only stand speechless knowing that Victor had done the same, and Victor just kept snickering as he took one last look at Yuuri’s shocked expression before placing a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll be back shortly.”

The sound of Phichit’s apartment door clicking shut announced Victor’s exit, along with some of the lingering pressure of Victor’s presence, and Phichit was up off his couch in an instant, walking across to Yuuri in hurried steps and hugging him tight and _rough_ like only best friends could.

“Yuuri.” Phichit laughed to hide his relief, “I was worried sick. Why didn’t you ask me for help?” 

He was squeezing Yuuri harder as he said it, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel wretched, because Phichit knew everything about his life, his family, about Minako’s teachings, he’d been there before Yuuri’s back was covered in ink, he’d told Phichit everything. Apart from this one thing. 

“Sorry.” Yuuri sighed into his shoulder, realising that even though this secret was a heavy burden, Phichit would have bore it nonetheless. “I didn’t want to bother you.” 

Phichit was laughing all over again as he stepped back and looked at Yuuri once more, his smile bright again, “You always were like that.” 

“Yeah.” Yuuri could only agree as they settled on the couches once more, and it was like no time at had passed between them since they were last together, Phichit’s company was always comfortable, whether they sat on their laptops in silence or were out causing mischief in Tokyo like they used to do before they both had too much responsibilities. 

“You guys really are no joke, huh?” came the eventual observation, “I knew it had to be true when word first got to me, it makes sense why your families are oddly neutral now, it was because of you two. But I didn’t think you’d be in this deep, Yuuri.” Phichit recited his thoughts out loud, not judgemental in the least.

“Is it that obvious?” Yuuri countered, shy and proud all at once. 

“Yuuri.” Phichit deadpanned with a blank look, “Even a blind man could see it.” 

“Oh.” was all Yuuri could say, smug, because the feeling of being with Victor in front of people would never wear off.

A minute of silence passed before either of them spoke again, and it was Phichit who brought up the question on everyones’ mind.

“Really, Yuuri, what are you going to do? As terrified as everyone is of you, don’t act like you don’t know they aren’t, and of Victor too, it won’t stop people from trying. It’s going to get rough.” Phichit was only saying what they both already knew, searching Yuuri’s face for an answer that he hadn’t come up with yet.

They would have to hold everyone off until they came up with a permanent solution, ever since they’d run Yuuri had thought long and hard about forming a new group with Victor, and he was only just coming to grips with how much of a threat the two of their names combined would be to other organisations, especially now that everyone knew Yuuri’s lineage.

It was an immensely satisfying thought, Yuuri couldn’t deny it.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri admitted finally, “We were hoping to lay low for a while, maybe contact our families after the shock wears off and let them know this is how it’s going to be, but it looks like we don’t have either of those options now, especially since Plisetsky said Georgi Popovich is out for Victor’s blood too.”

Phichit cringed at the mention of the unhinged Russian, shaking his head as Yuuri laid out their minimal options. “I can buy you some time at least, you know that beach house two hours from here that I go to when I wanna get off the grid? You can have it for as long as you need.”

Yuuri’s own relief was instant, even though he’d placated Victor and acted like this all would be fine, it didn’t mean he actually believed it, because there was still one other thing on his mind, one thing that hid in the back of his mind and reared its ugly head at his weakest moments. Something worse than Victor getting hurt, something worse than the two of them being torn apart, something worse than Victor leaving him permanently. 

“And… What about Minako?” Yuuri finally asked, thankful only for the fact that he wasn’t forced to ask in Victor’s hearing, even though Victor knew about this part of his life too, he’d never said her name in front of Victor, and he wasn’t about to start, “Do you know what she’s up to?”

This time, Phichit flinched at the question, and Yuuri barely held crippling panic at bay as he pictured his whole world crashing down around him, drowning him in the debris and blood that would follow. His chest tightened, and suddenly no matter how many breaths he took none of them seemed to reach his lungs, empty. 

“Yuuri, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Phichit back pedalled with panic of his own in his eyes, “There hasn’t been any word of her being active or moving about, but that’s only because there’s been no sight of her at all, so it’s not bad, Yuuri.” and Phichit was trying to smile, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t as bad as what it sounded, but it was already too late.

“Phichit, if she finds us, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do.” Yuuri admitted his deepest, darkest most terrifying fear, something that ripped him apart at the seams the longer he thought about it, pulled him in two opposite directions at once and left his conscious in the middle as he watched the most important things in his life being taken away from him. 

And Phichit looked _heartbroken_ at seeing Yuuri like this, because there was nothing he could say that would make Yuuri’s fear less than it seemed. The whole _world_ knew what would happen if Minako and Victor ever met, and that was why everyone was so surprised that it was someone from the Katsuki family that Victor had given up everything for.

“Yuuri, no one will come for you at the beach house, I swear, I’ve been putting out false information all week.” Phichit’s smile was weak now, but it was a smile nonetheless, and Yuuri didn’t ever want to be a reason that Phichit stopped smiling, so he let it go as he plastered his mask on thick to act like it was all okay.

All he wanted to do was be throw up everything he’d ever eaten.

* * *

Phichit went out to get them supplies at the same time that Victor and Yurio got back up to the apartment, and from the look on Yurio’s face it looked like Victor had already told him the news.

Victor leant against the kitchen bench as Yuuri got up and had his own look at the hectic streets below, he heard Yurio’s subtle steps creep up behind him, heard the shift of his feet as he stopped at Yuuri’s side and tried to see what Yuuri was looking at on the ground.

“Victor’s not bullshitting me, right?” Yurio asked, and the sharp edge to his voice was only minor now, like he was talking to Yuuri like he was an actual person.

“Nope.” was all Yuuri said, he watched someone nearly get hit by a taxi, saw a car stall at the lights a short way down the street and mess up the flow of ever moving traffic.

“And you’re really the full blooded son of Toshiya and Hiroko Katsuki?” came the next question, flat and unaccusatory. 

“That’s me.” Yuuri confirmed in the same tone.

“Fuck.” and Yuri Plisetsky huffed a laugh, “this is even more fucked than I thought.”

“Yeah.”Yuuri couldn’t help a wry smile at the truth of those words, because he knew more than anyone how messed up this really was, it was the whole reason that he was clenching his fists to stop himself from shaking, anything so Victor wouldn’t see. “So what are you gonna do then?”

Yurio rounded on him then, apparently offended by the question, “Hah?! You think because shit’s about to get worse than you thought that I would back out of this? Fuck off, Victor owes me a position in whatever organisation he’s in, and I’m not stupid enough to be in one that’s going against him and now you.” he was poking Yuuri in the shoulder now, looking at him because he _was_ pissed off. “You guys are where the action is, and I want in.” 

Behind him, Yuuri could hear Victor chuckling to himself as he watched the interaction, clearly pleased with this particular turn of events at least. And Yuuri found that he was too, smiling a real smile now even as he looked to Yurio with a teasing glint on his glasses.

He offered his hand to Yuri Plisetsky, “Try to keep up then, Yurio.” Yuuri taunted.

His hand was taken in rough grip then, firm and unforgiving, self assured green eyes met Yuuri’s challenge as they shook hands, and Yurio finally said, “Pfft, I’ll leave you in the fucking dust.”

* * *

They made it to Phichit’s beach house without hassle, a sprawling modern house on a road lined with others of its kind opposite the sandy beach, and they all looked the same to Yuuri. White stucco and huge glass windows, fake grass and electric gates, luxury homes that the rich used as a holiday house on the side.

It wasn’t a bad place to try and lay low, Otabek would be here within the week, and then it would be the four of them again, Phichit stayed behind and offered to do anything he could from where he was, and Yuuri knew they were in safe hands with Phichit at least.

But it was _hot_ this close to the ocean, hot and humid and it made Yuuri’s morning stretches and training a lot more sweaty and arduous than it should have been. 

He couldn’t afford to neglect his skills or his physical condition, not with the events to come, so he was up and outside at the first sign of dawn with Victor to move his body and hopefully still his turbulent mind at the same time. 

Victor was a challenging sparring parter, he was fast and strong, smart and tactical, and he took Yuuri seriously, there was no going easy because of their affections for each other, and they soon discovered that the match up between them led to a breathless stalemate every time. 

But parring with Victor was also _exhilerating_ , feeling the rush of air as Victor’s strapped up fist whispered passed his chest as Yuuri turned to the side, kicking out nearly as fast as he could to strike Victor’s thigh only to find empty air as Victor dodged it in turn. Sparring had _never_ felt like a dance before, this fluid thing where they each knew what the other was going to do next, by the end they were both sweating, breathing hard, and Yuuri could admit that he was much more attracted to Victor because of it.

Because he stood there on the concrete in front of the house with sweat dripping from his air, running down his bare chest, in his sweat pants only, and he was grinning at Yuuri like this wasn’t the end of it, like it was only the beginning and they would spar every morning until one of them came out on top.

This was a challenge Yuuri would gladly rise to meet.

He could feel Victor’s hungry eyes on Yuuri’s own shirtless body as they made their way back inside, could sense Victor looking at the sheen of sweat highlighting the colours of the dragon on his smooth skin, the contours of his muscles, and before they got to the sliding door that led back into the kitchen; Yuuri’s wrist was being tugged back, his body spun around and he was wrangled into Victor’s bare arms.

Victor pulled their sweaty skin flush, muscles pressed together with the heat of exertion still in their veins, and he looked ready to go for a life time’s more worth of rounds as he looked down at Yuuri and devoured every inch of his skin with those all consuming blue eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, Yuuri.” Victor whispered as an ocean breezed caressed them both, gentle and tender in its touch. 

Seagulls squawked at the beach across the road, an early morning traveller drove passed in their car, and Yuuri blushed at the truth in Victor’s eyes and finally returned the sentiment. “You are.”

And Victor didn’t tease him like he usually did, didn’t call him cute or adorable, his expression only deepened into something Yuuri couldn’t fathom, because there would always be things about Victor that Yuuri wouldn’t understand. “Yuuri, I’m serious. How did someone like me manage to bag someone like you?” 

It wasn’t a question that needed answering, because Victor deserved more than what Yuuri could ever give, and they were already passed this point, instead Yuuri just sighed and touched his forehead to the centre of Victor’s muscled chest. 

“I ask myself the same thing about you.” 

For this one fleeting moment the niggling anxiety in Yuuri’s gut stilled as Victor hummed his appreciation, sliding his hand down Yuuri’s sides to thumb the fabric of Yuuri’s waistband. “Lets go shower, I’m not done with you yet.” 

* * *

The next day, Yurio joined in on the morning session and made things that much more interesting, for Victor and Yuuri at least. 

Stretching was over and done with, and before the sparring even began everyone was taking shirts off and sweating in the humid morning air. 

Shirt tossed aside and knuckles wrapped, Yuuri turned around to the sound of crashing waves in the distance and seagulls yet again, all conversation dead in the air as Yurio looked at _all_ of him properly for the first time.

Jaw nearly on the floor, cheeks unmistakably flushed, Yurio gaped at him as he looked Yuuri up and down, his eyes roving over Yuuri’s tattoos and lithe frame.

“What the fuck.” Yurio cursed, looking at Yuuri still. 

Victor, looking at Yuri, promptly burst into unabashed laughter at the young man’s reaction, everyone knew it for what it was, Yurio the most of all.

“I think what he means is you’re a babe, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled as he walked to Yuuri’s side to snake an arm around his waist. “It’s lucky Otabek’s not here, he might get jealous.” 

Yurio just took a breath and sputtered before he finally tore his eyes away from Yuuri’s skin, and not once did he look Yuuri in the eye for the rest of the session, choosing only to fight with Victor instead, of course he lost every single time. 

The morning after that, Yurio turned up back to his normal self, and much to his frustration in the face of people faster and stronger, more experienced than him, still lost again and again. 

* * *

Four more days passed like that, they’d spar in the morning all the way through until lunch, shower, eat, and then sit down and talk about all the endless options and plans that they could think of when things finally started happening. 

Their main objective was to hit people before they got hit themselves, Phichit would pass along any information he had on groups whereabouts that were on the lookout for Yuuri. And as they sat at the kitchen table with maps and a list of their arsenal to look over; Victor’s eyes glowed this bloodthirsty blue, empty of anything except the unrelenting will to _crush_ anyone who wanted to try their luck with the hunt for Yuuri.

They would need this rest, this lull in the action before they set out with the intentions of running no more, it was going to get messy, and fast. Yuuri’s heart hadn’t gone back to its normal resting rate the entire time, it probably wouldn’t until this was all over. 

Because he couldn’t shake that same feeling that haunted him when things were going too well, _too_ smoothly.

In the end they’d made it out of Russia and to Phichit unharmed, they’d made it to the beach house with only bad news weighing them down, and there was no sign of that gut wrenching distance between him and Victor that happened the last time someone tried to pull them apart.

Victor was still just as attentive as he was cheeky, he still went to sleep last and woke up first, still said Yuuri’s name exactly the same and was as clingy in bed as ever. 

It made Yuuri too happy, had him too at ease the times when Victor would catch him staring out the front window as he _watched_ for anything that could destroy this momentary peace. Victor would snake his hands around Yuuri’s waist from behind, nuzzle into his neck and hum that same sad song he always did like a tribute to all the things they’d been through to get to this point. 

_Paranoia_ gripped Yuuri in its merciless claws, had Yuuri jumping at shadows, waking up in cold sweats, his instincts told him everything was wrong, and as each day passed and he couldn’t put a finger on it; it only grew worse.

And Yuuri was exhausted now, tired from trying to hide his unease from Victor, tired of his anxiety trying to take this time away from him and turn it into something it wasn’t.

But Yuuri’s instincts had never lied to him before, and so even as common sense told him to breathe, all Yuuri did was slowly drown.

* * *

Seven days had passed now, and they got word from Otabek that he would be arriving today, with an addition to the team that they could trust, apparently. 

Strangely enough that didn’t set any alarm bells off for Yuuri, didn’t raise the hairs on his neck or tell him that it would be a mistake. Otabek had already earned Yuuri’s trust, and so he’d trust him to be a good judge of character. 

Then it would be up to this new person to earn Yuuri’s trust in turn, but if they were mad enough to wade into this shit storm then they were already well on their way, and probably crazy to boot. 

So they left the electric gate at the front of the property open for Otabek’s arrival and carried on with the day as usual, all other news from Phichit was still in their favour, the Russians hadn’t made any moves, Georgi Popovich was still in St Petersburg, and as far as Phichit knew; no one knew that Victor and Yuuri were in Bangkok as yet. 

But there was still no information on Minako, and that cancelled out everything else that was advantageous to them, to Yuuri at least.

It was halfway through the day when Yuuri was still thinking about it, when he was down the hall in the bedroom where he slept with Victor that his phone rung. 

Victor was down the other end of the huge house, in the kitchen while Yurio took a nap in the sun out the front. 

And that shrill ringtone in the silence of the bedroom had Yuuri’s blood running cold despite the heat, Phichit’s ringtone _screamed_ at him like this harbinger of bad tidings, and once again Yuuri didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

With throat dry and alarm bells ringing finally; Yuuri answered.

“Phich-

 _“Yuuri, I’m sorry!”_ and his friend had never sounded frantic in his life, never wound up and desperate like this, Phichit was the most laid back person Yuuri knew.

And so uncontrollable panic began to seize Yuuri’s body, his throat, his capacity to think.

“What is it?” and Yuuri still didn’t want the fucking answer even though he knew what it was going to be. It was only a matter of time.

_“It’s Minako, fuck, I’m sorry, Yuuri. She found me and there was nothing I could do, she knocked me out… and I’ve only just woken up.”_

Yuuri was _drowning_ in his own panic now as he dropped the phone with a soft thud on the carpet and tried to run, and the last thing he heard Phichit yell through the phone was:

_”Yuuri, she’s going to kill Victor.”_

* * *

Yuuri heard the commotion, the snarls and smashing glass, the eruption of _violence_ before he was even passed the door way to the bedroom. 

And that fucking hallway of this ridiculously expensive house was so much longer now that Yuuri couldn’t move, each step and the doorway to the kitchen only got further from his reach. He could feel everything Yuuri lived for slipping from his hands as his body failed him, as panic seized him and pulled him under into this helpless state of mind that Yuuri hadn’t experienced for years.

He could hear Victor’s booming voice, could hear _rage_ and confliction, could hear Victor break inside even from here, because Victor knew what this was to Yuuri more than anyone.

He could hear Minako’s clipped tones, hear her sharp voice that cut at the last of Yuuri’s hopes that this wouldn’t ever come to pass.

Yuuri’s instincts had never been wrong in his life, and this was no exception.

As he ran through the door to the kitchen at last, everything Yuuri saw in his worst nightmares was in front of his very eyes.

The two most important people in Yuuri’s life were squaring off in a mess of scattered paper and glass shards, the white tiles of the kitchen already stained with blood as a cut from Victor’s split lip bled all over the floor, down his chin, soaking his shirt with blossoming red.

But that’s not what Yuuri was seeing. 

He was seeing Victor’s face on the edge of _insanity_ , torn apart from the inside out as he pointed his gun at Minako with a shaking hand. Victor knew what Minako was to Yuuri, his mother in all but blood, the person Yuuri owed his life to. The only other person in the world that Yuuri couldn’t comprehend losing, living without.

Yet Yuuri had always known if this happened he would be forced to make a choice, forced to lose one of two, and he _still_ hadn’t decided who it would be even now.

So he simply shut down, sank to his knees with a crunch of glass and shallow breaths as hysteria took over, as he drowned in ruin and paralysing dread.

“I always told myself I’d never kill you for Yuuri’s sake, but having you here in front of me now…” Victor growled through clenched teeth, and he couldn’t even _see_ Yuuri, he wasn’t looking at him like he always did, it was like Yuuri didn’t even exist.

Because Victor only had eyes for Minako Okukawa.

Twenty five years ago in the conflict that was written in history, on order from Yuuri’s own family, Minako Okukawa killed Victor Nikiforov’s parents in front of his very eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	8. Open Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many comments for that cliffhanger, it was satisfying I am not going to lie XD keep up the comments though! 
> 
> Also, its 3.30am i am ghost posting this - watch out for wild typos.

It’d been a long time since Yuuri had a panic attack, and yet here he was.

On his knees in front of the two only two people he couldn’t live without, trapped by terror that clawed its way up his throat to choke him, blinded by distress that sent the blood from his brain and rendered him useless, and he’d never known a fear like this, _debilitating_ , this catatonic state of mind that had him tearing at his own hair as his own body _betrayed_ him. 

And no matter _how much_ he tried to breathe, his pathetic shallow breaths, his heaving chest and silent scream; all he did was suffocate on his own toxic panic. 

All Yuuri’s life he’d fought to be strong, fought for every finely honed instinct and his ability to think on his feet, he’d fought for control over himself, over moments like this where he thought the sky was falling, when he thought he wasn’t good enough to be called ‘son’, not strong enough to be acknowledged. After 24 years he thought he’d finally won, thought he was finally able to stand with the infinite pressure of the sky bearing down. 

Yuuri knew now he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Because everything was closing in right at this moment, oppressing him with the crippling weight of this nightmare he’d only been dreaming of up until today, he couldn’t even stand, let alone fight.

So it was like watching from the outside looking in, his conscious removed from his body to watch so close but yet so far from any ability to do anything but croak pathetically as his heart tried to kick its way out of his chest. 

Victor looked _pained_ , he looked furious and heartbroken all in one, furious with his own desire of vengeance, and heartbroken at everything Yuuri would lose if he pulled the trigger on his weapon just one centimetre more. 

There was so much more than one simple life at stake, they could lose trust, they could lose faith, they could take themselves so far away from the bond they had now, and Yuuri didn’t know which of those things was making him hurt the most.

The white tiles and walls of the kitchen were blinding now, this insult to his eyes as it drew his vision to the speckled blood on the floor, the shards of glass that sparkled in the sun that shone through the kitchen window in a meek attempt to warm the chill in the air. 

Then, there was Minako who’d come in from the back door so far away from the ranch slider on the opposite side of the open plan space, she’d no doubt picked the lock and caught Victor off guard, the shattered glass of water and scattered documents said it all. Victor must have whirled around, caught unaware in a place where they were meant to be safe, and he’d come face to face with this ghost that’d haunted his entire life.

And even Yuuri could admit that that would feel like nothing short of a kick in the teeth, so he couldn’t blame Victor for whatever happened next. 

Victor was glaring at Minako still as the silence spread thick to all corners of the house, and even in his stupor Yuuri could see that Minako looked so _wary_ , posture perfect in her waist high dress pants and tailored blazer, crisp white collar underneath with hair as free as her personality, impeccable as ever if it weren’t for the unmistakable patina of exhaustion in her eyes. The sort of exhaustion that only sleepless nights and travel gave you, the type of tired where the only time you could rest is when you had what you needed in your sight, the very same fatigue as searching for someone you never thought you’d find until it was too late.

Suddenly Yuuri was wracked with sickening guilt on top of everything else, because she’d been looking for Yuuri _this whole time_ , not just since his father put word out, and how much more selfish could he be, to have Victor and ask for this to all be okay, to run away without so much as a word to the person who was his mother in all but blood.

He’d never seen her look this thoroughly strung out, and on top of that, mildly surprised to boot, this is how he repaid the person who’d been his pillar of strength, and Yuuri only fell further into despair as those invisible hands tightened around his neck.

Only death was as quiet and still as this, there were no cars rushing by outside, no birds sounding their call in the trees behind the house, no gulls squawking overhead on their way to the ocean, just this empty silence that sat in wait for the thunder to roll in.

But the world spun in reverse instead then as Minako sighed in exasperation, eyebrows drawn together in frustration as she _dropped_ her weapon arm down to her side and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other hand. 

“I really wasn’t expecting _this_.” she grumbled, conflicted and confused all in one, “I thought you’d have Yuuri wrapped around your finger in some sick plot for revenge, but he’s got you around his.” and she sighed again, relieved and still confused, uncaring of the gun Victor was still point in her face.

And so Yuuri only panicked more, bent over on himself to bury his face in his hands because this was something he didn’t want to see anymore, Victor’s expression hadn’t changed, he hadn’t _looked_ at Yuuri once, hadn’t even seen him, he was still on the of precipice sorrow and rage, and Minako had left herself wide open.

Instead Yuuri looked at the black void in his head as he clenched his eyes shut, listened to the sound of his own thundering heart that filled the silence perfectly now.

And from his world of anguish, Yuuri was forced to listen.

“Put the gun down, Victor.” Minako drawled now, there was no convincing tone, no pleas not to be shot. Minako was always so sure in herself, in everything she had to say. “We both know that if you were going to kill me, you would have pulled the trigger by now.”

Yuuri’s logic _tried_ to fight to the fore of his thoughts and tell him it was true, if he was thinking straight and sensible like he usually did he would know that if the worst was going to happen it would have already, except it was too late for any of that to help him.

So he barely noticed when Victor cursed under his breath, rasped from his throat like sandpaper over hot coals, he barely noticed Victor’s gun clatter to the floor in front of him, doesn’t see Victor claw at his own hair as he curses _again_.

“Hah, I can’t do it after all.” and Victor is laughing at himself, this hollow sound empty of any feeling at all, like he’s the pathetic one here, the weak one, the helpless one. “Not to Yuuri.”

And it was like speaking his name made Victor aware that Yuuri was actually there, on his knees, choking on every demon that plagued him, squeezing his chest, sapping his strength.

Then Victor was there, like he always was, but that meant nothing when Victor hadn’t seen him like _this_ before, beyond the reach of feelings and words and _reason_.

Victor turned his back to Minako, left that vulnerable spot between his shoulder blades open as he dropped to his knees in front of Yuuri, his face searching, desperate, frantic as he pulled Yuuri out of his hunched position and tried to look him in the eye, tried to soothe him even though he didn’t know how.

“Yuuri, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” and he just kept repeating himself like maybe if he said it enough Victor could actually convince himself that moments ago he wasn’t about to tear Yuuri’s world in two. 

Warm palms cupped the side of his face, calloused fingers at his temples, and if Victor looked pained before, now he was in agony. His eyes flitting all over Yuuri’s person to check if he was physically hurt instead, tone soft as he said Yuuri’s name over and over, and now the only thing Victor could see was Yuuri breaking down in front of him.

“Don’t panic, Yuuri.” Victor pleaded the entirely wrong words, caressing Yuuri’s cheeks with his thumbs, gentle and urgent in their circular motions, he brought their faces close, trembling now too like Yuuri’s panic was infectious and Victor was inflicted, helpless because he couldn’t help Yuuri at all. “Yuuuuuri, I don’t know what to do.” 

Yuuri’s mind was coming back now, his thoughts not this red haze that masked every ounce of reason he had, but he still couldn’t _breathe_ , his muscles spasming as he failed to expand his lungs for a proper dose of air. 

“Move,” Minako snapped as he stepped up to them both, “Let me help him since you can’t.” 

“And you can?!” Victor almost snarled back, murderous for the blink of an eye at the notion that he wasn’t the one who was able to help Yuuri, but he looked back to Yuuri then, who was gasping still with no breathing rhythm of his own, and he crumbled, in yet more pain as he cast his eyes down in relent and moved to the side. And then he was the one forced to watch and listen, watch the women who killed his parents help the only soul on earth that Victor would do anything for in order to help him. 

Minako crouched low in front of him in an instant, just like she had so many times before with that look of concern on her face, with this unspoken sadness in her eyes because she was the only one who knew all the reasons why Yuuri was like this.

“Breathe, Yuuri.” Minako whispered as he took his hands and held on tight, “sit upright and breathe like me.” and it was like being a teenager all over again, in the sitting room of their traditional home, curled in a ball on the straw scented tatami mats in a pool of anxiety moments after his father left from visiting Minako.

It was never traumatic or abusive, never full of negativity or malice, his father would treat Yuuri like every young person in the family, he’d ruffle his hair, tell him to work hard, tell him to strive so that maybe he could be an important member of the organisation one day. And therein was the cause for all Yuuri’s insurmountable insecurities. 

It was the fact that he was treated like every other child, every other teenager, every other young man, and never a son instead. Yuuri had fought for recognition, for every shred of respect and standing that he had, for loyalty of the other men around him, Yuuri had strived for perfection and still never been called son. The lack of acknowledgement used to keep him up and night, used to make him paranoid about any mistake he might make. It used to _haunt_ him until he realised it would never happen, and that it was better trying to pretend he really was Minako’s son after all. 

Because it would always be ’Yuuri’ or nothing at all, and he’d never valued his name until Victor started to say it the way he did, like it meant something, like it was something Victor couldn’t bear to stop saying.

“Breathe, Yuuri.” and now Minako was saying his name like it meant more than the world, like her existence hinged on the way she rolled the ‘r’ off her tongue, “In slowly, count with me, Yuuri.”

And so Minako helped Yuuri gain control of his body, breathe in for one, two, three and then four seconds, hold the air in his lungs and let the fresh oxygen spread, and out for one, two, three, and four seconds. Over and over again until Minako stopped counting, until they were both just sitting there staring at each other, until she was smiling at him with tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes, smiling because it was clear she’d thought the worst herself and was happy to be wrong.

Victor was watching them both, weighing the situation, looking at the way Minako and Yuuri looked at each other and clenching his jaw all over again, hurt that Yuuri needed someone else, angry that Minako of all people was the one who could do something Victor couldn’t.

No guns had been fired, no one lost, and yet Yuuri still considered this part of his worst nightmare, awkward as he found himself between two sides he couldn’t pick.

“This has happened before?” Victor drawled, though he already knew the answer, fists bunched tight on his thighs, knuckles white, eyes empty once more, and it scared Yuuri all over again to see him like that, so far away from the person he knew.

Minako nodded, eyes on Yuuri still, talking to Yuuri to answer Victor’s question. “Every time you broke down I was there, and I could never tell you why your life turned out like this, why you felt like a dirty secret.” her voice was soaked in regret, face apologetic.

And now Victor looked furious, _frustrated_ that Yuuri had to go through that, angry that he hadn’t known about this demon of Yuuri’s, betrayed that Yuuri hadn’t told him.

“Why?” was all Victor asked through his teeth. 

Minako sighed again, looking at Victor now with her trademark grave expression, the expression she gave someone when he told them something they didn’t want to hear.

“To protect him.” she offered simply.

“From what?” Victor deadpanned, like he couldn’t imagine Yuuri needed protecting from much. 

It’d been so long since Yuuri thought about it, so long since he’d tried to fit the pieces together, he’d never thought about why he was even told he was Toshiya and Hiroko’s son, never thought about why he was made to get his tattoos so early on in life. And everything fell into place as they all sat there, one part of the puzzle after another until he could see it all clearly, but it was too late to stop Minako once again, too late to stop her saying anything that would hurt Victor more.

Because she looked Victor dead in the eye then and she said:

“From the mafia, from you.” 

And that was more than Victor could take, Yuuri watched the words hit him like a physical blow, watched them sink in and mar his soul, because the only thing Victor wanted to do was to protect Yuuri, watch his back and walk beside him. To be told that the _he_ was part of the reason for all Yuuri’s pain was the worst kind of blow, and Yuuri watched him crumble further inside, watched him snap as he slammed a fist against his thigh, bite his bloodied lip, then stand and storm out of the room, his back to them both.

In the quiet that followed, as he listened to the door slam behind Victor and remembered that look of pain in his eyes, the image of Victor’s figure disappearing outside replaying over and over, Victor not looking in his direction at all; Yuuri only just understood now how hard it must have been for Victor to watch Yuuri walk away from him time and again for all these years.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered, wanting nothing more than to go to him, _to stay by his side_ , but Minako was here, holding onto his hands still, watching the expressions play across his face to realise that this was hurting him. 

“So you’re both dead serious.” She sighed again, still unbelieving. “How long, Yuuri?” she asked, squeezing his hands to reassure him. 

“Five.” was all Yuuri said, looking at the door still. 

The sound of Minako’s outraged gasp brought his eyes to look at her, frowning and shaking him by the shoulders as she looked at Yuuri in disappointment. “Five months, Yuuri! I thought I raised you better than to run away with a boy after _five months_! And with Victor Ni-“

“No.” Yuuri cut her off with a shake of his head, meeting her gaze, steadfast as he told her the only thing he’d ever kept from her. “Five years.” 

She stopped the moment she comprehended five _long_ years, and she looked sorry for him now, that he had to keep this secret to himself for so long, “Oh, Yuuri, that’s a long time.” 

“Yeah… but it’s not long enough.” he admitted then, blushing, shy and nervous, _unsure_ , because he’d never talked about his feelings for Victor to anyone, and he never thought the first person would be Minako. 

“I can see that.” Minako deadpanned, “Go, catch up to him, but when you get back to the house, we need to talk, Yuuri, all three of us.” 

Yuuri was on his feet before she even finished talking, halfway through his first step when he heard the ranch slider open from the other side of the open plan living space.

“What’s wrong with Victor, he looks read to- oh, shit… just, shit.” Yurio trailed off as he saw Minako and Yuuri standing in the kitchen, the broken glass, the spatters of blood, as he stepped into the stale air of old tension and animosity.

And this was the last fucking thing Yuuri wanted to deal with now, everything else was the last thing because the only thing he wanted to do was chase after Victor, to close the gap because he could _feel_ it increasing and it made him nervous like nothing else before.

“Go, Yuuri, I might as well make myself acquainted, since I’m not going anywhere.” Minako waved him off, and if Yuuri wasn’t so set on Victor then he might have thought about her choice of words and what they might have meant.

* * *

Yuuri ran in a straight line down from the drive, not even thinking about the fact his life’s mystery has just been unveiled, not _caring_.

It was barefoot across the tarmac road to the grass copse on the other side where beachgoers cars were parked, down the worn path through the scrappy beach grass that cut at his ankles, under the palm trees that overlooked his search as he took in the soft white sand that spread in both directions for the entire length of the coast.

Gentle waves rolled in, the water this vivid blue that let you see all the way to the bottom, speckled clouds in the blue sky overhead, moving slow with the gentle breeze that kissed his face.

And despite the many people that seemed to come to this beach, the stretch of sand in front of him all the way to the water was empty. 

It was clear that the few people on the shore had moved away from the area, scuffed sand and footprints, the fresh press of towels on sand that a handful of families had been lying on, half built sand castles and bits of rubbish, everyone had moved off, and that was all because Victor was there in the water, his back to Yuuri still as he sat in the ocean, fully clothed with his head hanging low. 

He was the picture of misery at this moment, this picture of loneliness, soaked from head to toe as the waves lapped as his body, rolled over his knees. The feel of sand under Yuuri’s feet was gentle, the water warm, almost welcoming as he waded in uncaring of his long pants, to stand by Victor’s side like he promised he always would. 

The saturated white cotton of Victor’s dress shirt clung to his skin, to every curve of his muscle and plain of his body, his silver hair hung limp, plastered to the sides of his face, to his neck, dripping down his back, behind his ears, off his chin and still Victor stared down at the water at his own reflection.

He’d never had any trouble speaking to Victor before, but he couldn’t find anything to say as he stood there in this literal paradise with the person he treasured most at his side, all he did was berate himself for not taking the time with Victor this whole week to come down here and enjoy the feel of sand between his toes, the ocean breeze in his air, the sun on his face. 

It was Victor who spoke first, speaking the words Yuuri had been thinking.

“You know, I always wanted to come to the ocean with you, but I never thought it would happen like this.” his voice strained, broke as he hung his head further, hands underwater as he clenched his fists again.

And Yuuri couldn’t take this, couldn’t take seeing Victor the way he was now, empty of mirth and his cheeky remarks, with a swish of water and ripples all around, Yuuri moved and fell to his knees again, straddling Victor’s legs in the water as it came up to his hips. 

“Victor, you don’t need to say anything.” Yuuri shook his shoulders then, dug his fingers into the firm muscles, the wet fabric, his cold skin, and still Victor wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t set those unfathomable blue eyes in his direction, wouldn’t say his name or lift his head. “Victor.” Yuuri breathed, holding onto the strength in those shoulders so he wouldn’t lose himself again. 

Victor shook his head and kept his gaze downcast as the swell washed over them both in an attempt to wash away the distance between them, the soil of grievances past.

“Do you think I’d be able to live with myself if I hurt you like that?” Victor said eventually, his voice flat, impassive.

Waves splashed on the shore behind him, water swirled between them, soaked the bottom of Yuuri’s shirt as he lowered himself down. 

“It doesn’t matter, Victor, I wouldn’t blame you, I couldn’t.” Yuuri whispered, edging closer, sitting down on Victor’s thighs to bring himself level with Victor’s head, running his fingers up the skin of his neck to his jaw, pulling that face up because he couldn’t take Victor not looking at him for a second more.

And the look in Victor’s eyes was so sincere, so forgiving and selfless that Yuuri couldn’t help but sob as he pushed the lengths of wet hair out of Victor’s eyes that were finally looking at him, he’d never been happier to have Victor Nikiforov’s attention.

“No.” Victor said then, offering him this sympathetic smile even with his cut lip before he continued, his eyes soft, endless blue like the ocean behind him. “You’d only blame yourself, and I wouldn’t be able to live with that either.”

“Victooor,” Yuuri sighed then, “you can’t take this all on yourself, that’s not how it works.” 

“Isn’t it?” Victor questioned instantly, a small bite to his voice, “I knew this day would come, I’ve been waiting, Yuuri. I thought I was strong enough for it, strong enough so that I wouldn’t put you in that position but I wasn’t and I _did_. So how can I say that I’ll protect you when I can’t even save you from the things inside your head?” 

There was that pained expression again, this self loathing that Victor was currently punishing himself with, and he was so _stupid_ , Victor fucking Nikiforov with all his promises of the stars in the sky and the world at their feet, stupid for thinking that he could save someone from anxiety of all things. 

“Stupid Victor.” Yuuri grumbled then, pinched his cheeks and held his gaze, “Did you forget that I’m strong enough on my own? You think I can’t handle it like I haven’t already before? You’re the face of the mafia, Victor, an international crime lord, not a knight in shining armour, and I don’t need saving.” 

That small burr of irritation blew up at the end, Yuuri berating Victor for trying to bear a burden that was meant to be shared between two, and what sort of relationship would they have if Yuuri was that terrifyingly dependant on Victor? 

“It’s anxiety, Victor, not a knife to my throat, did you expect me to tell you about it in bed or something before now? ‘Hey, I’ve got this issue that turns me into a lump of useless meat and it’s super hot, you should see it sometime.’” Yuuri’s tone was sardonic as he trailed off, he _felt_ the frown on his face, could hear the echo of annoyance his voice left. 

Victor just stared back at him wide eyed and shocked, mouth open and silent as the ocean moved around them. 

“Pfft.” and Victor _laughed_ then, chuckled from deep within his person as the corners of his eyes pinched together in amusement, and he finally moved his hands from beneath the surface of the water, water cascading from the length of his arms, a constant stream as it weighed down his sleeves, saturating Yuuri further as Victor put his arms around Yuuri’s neck and clasped his fingers together. “Only you could surprise me at a time like this, Yuuri.” 

Victor gave up his self pity as he kept snickering and pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s, Yuuri felt the grit of sand and salt against his skin, saw the way Victor shut his eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out to calm himself at last. 

They sat like that, pressed against each others’ warmth that made the sea that much colder as the world closed in, gulls called over head, people laughed and splashed in the distance, in that moment everything felt _right_ , and Yuuri couldn’t believe he could be so lucky to come out of this with everything he wanted.

It was only temporary, this serenity soothing his soul, but he would make the most of it while he could. It didn’t change the fact that moments before now Victor had been on the verge of breaking point, that their relationship might have broken with it too, it didn’t change the fact that Minako killed his parents, and didn’t make the conversation they were all going to have next any easier.

“What do you want me to do, Victor?” Yuuri asked in the end, a whispered plea, because he’d never thought this far ahead, never thought he’d be given a way forward.

Victor’s eyes stayed shut as he started humming, this bone deep song of absolution that Yuuri would never get tired of hearing, and then he stopped and opened his eyes, looked at Yuuri with understanding because neither of them really knew the answer.

“Just stay close to me, and we’ll be fine, Yuuri.” came the words that made Yuuri feel whole, content and spoilt with something all of their money combined could never hope to buy. 

“That, I can do.” Yuuri hummed back, feeling that ever present turbulence in the back of his mind settle in a way it never had before.

“Good, now kiss my lip better, Yuuri.” and there it was, Victor’s trademark pout as he jut his bottom lip out to accentuate the small split that’d mostly stopped bleeding.

It tasted like blood and salt, but Victor’s lips were warm and so soft compared to the hard muscles of his body as Yuuri kissed him, this slow press of their mouths as they found each other all over again. 

Yuuri made sure to savour it, this kiss that said more than their words ever could, because it was back to reality after that as they pulled back and looked at each other again, both knowing what had to happen next. 

“Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?” Victor asked, back to the self assured tone that Yuuri would follow anywhere. 

“Let’s go.” Yuuri answered in kind.

* * *

Each step back towards the house brought them further away from the peace on the beach, closer to the unknown once more as they walked side by side on the sand, dripping wet as their clothes clung to their skin.

Back up the path with the cutting grass on each side and palm trees dotted along the way, passed the cars and across the road, right back up the driveway to the house where they’d been living for the last week in a false sense of security.

They both noticed the new car instantly, the _brand new_ shiny black station wagon with polished mags and tinted windows, this sleek machine, a perfect copy of the one they’d trashed in St Petersburg, parked in front of the garage behind the Audi that they’d brought here.

In the back of Yuuri’s mind, he noted that the the car Minako used to get here must be somewhere near by.

“Should have known Otabek would pull something like this.” Victor smiled as they drew close to the white stucco house, further down the drive leaving a trail of wet concrete and rapidly drying footsteps as they found themselves at the back door together this time.

Yuuri pushed the door open without preamble, wanting this to be over already because he was so tired of being constantly on edge, wary of his one true fear that used to taunt him, he only hoped that after this the edge he walked on wouldn’t be as sharp. 

That was when he came face to face with the blond hair and green eyes he’d met at the bar in St Petersburg where this all began, and Yuuri wasn’t _thinking_ at all, not about the extra person Otabek said he was bringing, not about the fact it was someone Otabek said he could trust. All he saw was someone from Russia who called Victor boss, who probably wanted to get one back on the man who’d deserted them.

It was moments like this that his body moved like a dream, every muscle and movement under his control, he had no weapons but that didn’t matter, it never did when you could snap someone’s neck just the right way and make them stop moving forever.

Yuuri was lunging through the door with a silent snarl on his lip before anyone knew it, flinging droplets onto the tiles as he aimed his closed fist, wrist straight and shoulder extended, right for the taller man’s throat who was too surprised to move.

And right before his knuckles could make contact with the crunchy cartilage of Chris’ jugular, crush his throat and send him slowly to his grave, Yuuri’s fist stopped short as pair of arms slipped about his waist and held him back from the impact. 

All eyes were on them now, looking at the pair of them standing together in the doorway. Otabek and Yurio shared looks of both awe and shock at seeing Yuuri move, at seeing him unleash it all for a mere split second. Minako looked like she’d expected it from the beginning, she knew how Yuuri worked, knew how he snapped when he’d been uneasy for too long. 

And Victor didn’t let him go, he pulled Yuuri closer to his chest, choosing to let everyone see the image of them together like this, wet clothes, barefoot and undoubtably inseparable.

“Wow! That was close.” Victor exclaimed in the seconds that followed as the spike of violence settled, holding Yuuri tight as he calmed down and realised his error, because it was clear Chris hadn’t been expecting an attempt on his life so soon, he’d barely moved. 

“You’re telling me.” Chris, in his fitted black slacks and tight white dress shirt let go of a breath then as he looked at them both with a brilliant white smile like he was happy for them, happy for his boss, and most of all relieved not to be dead. “No wonder Otabek said Victor was crazy about you.” he spoke to Yuuri in the end with a wink, taking it all in his stride like he’d been with them this whole time. 

“So it was you after all, Chris.” Victor cut in, he was vague and measuring as he watched Chris like a hawk for his response, hugging Yuuri tighter as he did so with only a minor show of how possessive he could be. And it made Yuuri shiver, being so close to Victor when he put on the face of a mafia boss.

“Did you really think there wouldn’t be those of us who wouldn’t follow you wherever you went, Victor?” Chris admitted, genuine and real, something Yuuri could see right though. He looked so _different_ from the man Yuuri had met in that shadowed bar full of smoke and lies, like he’d shed a mask of his own in coming here.

That seemed to appease Victor well enough, because he let go of Yuuri finally as he huffed a small laugh and stood up straight, his shoulders wide, presence overwhelming when he offered Chris his hand to shake. “Ah, Chris, you always did follow me everywhere.” 

“What can I say? St Petersburg is boring without you to follow.” Chris chuckled then as they all found themselves in the kitchen that suddenly seemed to small for them all, he turned to Yuuri then, his hand outstretched as he introduced himself properly. “Christophe Giacometti.” 

Yuuri felt their tiny group forge yet more bonds when he shook Chris’s hand, his own face unreadable like a boss’s should be as he accepted his role of leader alongside Victor. “Katsuki Yuuri.” 

“Oh, I know who you are now, everyone does. I thought I’d seen your face before when I talked to you in that bar, who would have thought you’d turn out to be Victor’s one and only, and the heir to the Katsuki family too.” Chris meant no harm in what he said, but the words were still cutting nonetheless, touching too close to home for Yuuri’s comfort, he dropped the hand he was shaking in an instant and stepped back, wanting to be anywhere but in a room full of people. 

“I’m not the heir and never will be.” Yuuri drawled, ending the topic as soon as it’d begun, “since I’m not part of that family anymore.” 

All conversation stopped dead, Victor was in the middle of hugging Otabek to welcome him back, rough and brief like only old friends could when Minako finally stepped away from leaning against the countertop, the rest of the reunion would have to wait now, Yuuri knew. 

“It’s not that easy to cut ties, Yuuri.” Minako said to him, blunt and to the point, uncaring of the of the way it made the air in the room prickle with conflict all over again. Victor was composed now as he came back to Yuuri’s side to twine their fingers together, to hold them both steadfast for what was to come. 

“I know you’re both set on this, and it’s too late to change things now, so I think it’s time you both knew everything there is to know so that you can move forward with a clear head. Go and get changed first, this isn’t something you want to be uncomfortable for, because it’s going to be bad enough.” 

* * *

They took a 5 minute shower in the ensuite of their bedroom and got dressed into casual clothes with silence all around, jeans and t-shirts fit the bright white walls and grey carpet, the open windows and white netted curtains. 

They’d almost seem like a normal couple who led a contented domestic life, that was if it weren’t for the multiple automatic guns on the dresser, sleek and black as death, this jarring image against the gentle shades of the rest of the room. It was the blocks of cash next to them, Victor’s gold rolex that Yuuri got for him for his birthday last year, the night hued suits hanging in the open wardrobe that were worth more than a months wages to some people. It was their holsters thrown on the chair in the corner, everywhere they both looked were pieces of their identity, and strangely enough this is what Yuuri found comfort in now, because Victor’s things were there next to his. 

He’d barely pulled his t-shirt down when Minako knocked on the door, three gentle taps that made a mockery of how she first arrived. Yuuri saw Victor’s frame still for a second, a rigid moment of preparation before he looked to Yuuri, before he leant in to kiss him chaste and reassuring, and Yuuri knew he was as ready for this as he could ever be. 

“Come in.” Yuuri called as he sat on the edge of the bed with Victor next to him. 

No one said anything as she entered, Victor’s mask was on perfect, this bulletproof facade that wouldn’t let anything get to him, and how Victor thought that he wasn’t strong enough to handle this, Yuuri didn’t know, because right now he was the cornerstone of Yuuri’s strength.

And true to her personality; Minako wasted no time, she came in and stood before them both, leant against the white wall in her black jacket and looked at them sitting side by side to make sure that they were ready.

“I don’t even know where to start.” she sighed at last, this long drawn out breath as he pinched her brow in thought, “I’m just disappointed you didn’t ask me for help, Yuuri, did you really think I’d hold you back from doing what _you_ wanted? Or did you forget that I raised you and loved you for the last 24 years?” and she _was_ telling him off now now, staring down at Yuuri with this frown on her face as he sulked at him, arms folded and shoulders set.

“But,” and Yuuri could only sputter to start with, flounder for words as the conversation took him off guard, “What about the family?” 

“Yuuuuri, do you still not understand?” Minako sighed again before softening her features to hold his gaze with her brown eyes, honest and caring. “The moment your parents handed you over to me was the moment my life became yours, not the family’s anymore.” 

And Yuuri could see Minako’s throat was tight, her eyes wet all over again as she pinched her mouth shut to stop herself from crying, Yuuri could only hang his head at that, look at the soft carpet as he felt the sting in his own eyes. And then Victor’s hand was on his thigh, his fingers squeezing, firm and comforting as Yuuri swallowed the ball of regret in his own throat. 

“I’m sorry.” was all he could come up with, because no words would ever suffice.

“It’s fine now, Yuuri.” Minako sniffed as she regained her decorum, “But you need to stop thinking you’re on your own, things would have been so different if you just told me, I know it’s not what you want to hear now, but the plan all along was to announce you as heir the moment Victor took over the mafia in Russia.” 

The silence that followed Minako’s news was _deafening_ , this heavy pounding in Yuuri’s eardrums as he failed to comprehend the reality of what Minako said, because this was something he’d never thought would happen. Victor’s grip on his thigh only tightened as he listened.

“Why?” Yuuri questioned, a million things running through his mind all at once, fighting for a way out on his tongue. “What about Mari? Why wait?” 

“That’s why I said it would be better if you’d told me, Yuuri, don’t you see?” Minako was pleading now, needing for him to understand why his life turned out the way it did. “You know your sister is too lazy to inherit it all, everyone knows no one works as hard as you, you’re the reason no one has trifled with the family for the last few years whether you think you are or not.” 

“But what does Victor have to do with any of it?” Yuuri asked, because that’s all he could think of, the only thing he wanted to know. 

He didn’t like the look on Minako’s face at all, the one she gave people when she had some harsh truth to say, and he knew it was directed to them both. “Because, Yuuri, your father was hoping that by then, after you’d been dealing with Victor personally for years, after raising your status, that maybe he wouldn’t come after the son of the family who killed his parents. No one wants a repeat of what happened back then.” 

There it was again, that truth behind his life, the line between Yuuri and Victor that they’d obliterated just so they could have each other, the knife in the gut that was irony because the look on Minako’s face said that if they’d just waited, if Yuuri had just relied on her more, then none of this would have needed to happen. 

So Minako let them take it in for a few minutes, let their racing thoughts settle and compose themselves all over again before she continued, “It’s too late for that now though, Yuuri, not even the people on the lowest totem pole can run away, so for you to do something like this…” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuuri’s reply was instant, certain, he didn’t need to hesitate over something he was this sure of, “I wouldn’t change it anyway.” 

He put his hand on top of Victor’s then, fingers in between each others’, because it was true, it was so much better to be something else with Victor, something new with no bad blood to soil memories they’d yet to make, no bad history behind them, only the future ahead. 

“I know. You were always good at sticking to your word, Yuuri, but it’s not just you that has something they need to hear before going forward.” that’s when Minako shifted her attention to Victor, staring down at him with that same unwanted truth in her eyes.

Yuuri felt Victor’s whole body tense in reply, saw his jaw tighten, his his throat roll with the motion as he swallowed his hate back down. 

“Why?” was all Victor said, rasping in the quiet. 

It was probably a question Victor had been thinking his whole life, ‘ _why_ ’, why did his parents die, everyone knew the basic history; a struggle for power in between two rapidly expanding families that the world couldn’t contain. Why had it come down to toppling the current leaders of the mafia at the time, why hadn’t he been killed with them?

Most of all, why was it an answer Victor wouldn’t want to hear?

The air was heavy with secrets, Yuuri’s own body coiled tight in response, this time he would be ready for anything that happened.

Minako composed herself further, paced a few steps, back and forth before she stopped in front of them both again.

“First of all, I’m in the business of organised crime, not killing three year old children. It’s no secret your parents weren’t around much for you, so I need you to think about how different your life would be even if they were still here.” and she was looking at him, searching him for a response even as Victor hung his own head with a frown built on denial.

“You can hate me all you want, Victor, wish for my death, kill me if you think it will make you feel better, but I’m telling you now think about Yuuri, to think about whether you’d be able to live without him even if your parents were here.” and Minako was sparing no compassion, no sympathy, her voice flat and direct.

Through it all Yuuri could see Victor wind himself up tighter, clench his jaw harder, hang his head a little lower, and all Yuuri could feel was the cold chill of reality that Minako was about to hit them with as it all fell into place.

“Victor, I killed your parents because we got word of a plot that they were planning to take out Toshiya and the pregnant Hiroko too, and you and I both know what that means.” Minako let her words hang in that rigid silence, let the truth sink in for them both, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel like he’d rather not know this at all. 

He’d rather not have Victor struggling next to him, helpless tears pattering to the carpet from beneath the silver curtain of his hair as he kept his face directed towards the floor, eyes away from Yuuri’s reach yet again. 

“Think about it, Victor.” came Minako’s continuance, merciless as she forged ahead to get this done, because the sooner it was over the sooner they could hope to recover from this thing that Yuuri could feel was tearing them apart all by itself. “There would _be_ no Yuuri if that happened, so I don’t care, I would kill your parents every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could have Yuuri as my own.” 

With that, Yuuri knew she was done, done dishing out answers to questions the both of them thought they wanted.

There was a grind of Victor’s teeth, a choked sob that wracked his body that shook Yuuri to his core as he watched Victor fall apart as he desperately tried to hold himself together, to be _strong_ when now more than ever it was okay to break down. 

Victor didn’t look up, he took his hand away from Yuuri’s leg, gripped tight at his own hair as he _fought_ himself, and all Yuuri could do was watch, as useless as Victor had been for him in the kitchen. 

“And you know what?” Victor finally said, voice hoarse, the words grit out one by one like it _hurt_ him to even talk, “If it meant having Yuuri too, then I probably wouldn’t stop you.” 

And Yuuri didn’t see this as _fair_ , that in the end Victor was the who had to decide the question of who in his life should have lived and died when Yuuri himself hadn’t been strong enough to make the choice when the time called for it, with this however, he was sure of his own answer.

But it was terrifying that Victor would do so much for him, something that Yuuri wasn’t worthy of in this life time or the next. 

“I thought you’d say that. I’ll leave you now, because you have things of your own to sort out now.” and Minako left, footsteps quiet, forgotten as they sat side by side on the bed they’d slept together in for the last week.

They ended up laying against the pillows, moving on autopilot, on instinct into each others arms to hold each other together, close, tight and secure. 

And as they lay there, just breathing, holding on and _never_ letting go, Yuuri couldn’t tell where the broken pieces of himself ended and where Victor’s began.


	9. The Bright Side Of Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So dig two graves, 'cause when you die, I swear I'll be leaving by your side._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh it's time to face that I am horrible at replying to comments, I just want to let people know I read and appreciate every single one, and that if you have any questions it's probably best to ask me on tumblr.
> 
> Sorry this one took so long! Thank you Kanton, as always for your help and input for this one :)
> 
> I'm excited to post, so let there be typos.

* * *

It’s funny, when something was broken beyond repair, beyond salvation, then you never cared about how you picked up the pieces, that it used to be something complete, _whole_. You just swept it all up into a pile without a second thought, and then threw it all away to start again.

But they’d avoided this for too long, the clean up.

And they couldn’t anymore. They couldn’t let it gather, couldn’t sweep it under that proverbial rug like they’d been doing instead of trying to actually clear the debris.

Yuuri knew they had to pick it all up piece by piece, be as careful as they’d ever been, because the edges were still sharp, not dulled by time or the erosion of feelings and regrets. 

They’d both _broken_ one time or another, become something beyond saving because they were both too far gone in this, they’d fallen to pieces even as they fell for each other, and now they were both faced with a mess they’d turned their back on in order to keep looking forward.

Minako had been the blow that finally had them looking back, had them realising that if they were going to get though this then they had to put themselves back together somehow.

Because it was true, you couldn’t hope to save someone when you couldn’t even save yourself. You couldn’t protect someone when your own shield was weak with holes and missing pieces of resolve and conviction.

And as they lay there in the soft pillows of the bed they shared, in the clean sheets stained with their pain and heartache, Yuuri finally looked back.

Clutching Victor to his chest, feelings the soft threads of silver hair between his fingers, his solid body built for nothing but fighting, feeling this invincible person in his arms become a broken man was a special sort of agony saved only for the likes of someone as selfish as him.

Someone like Yuuri who’d done nothing but take, and take, and _take_ , until Victor Nikiforov had nothing left to give. And as he felt Victor’s silent tears seep into his skin, warm as they soaked through his shirt, unspoken with never a complaint, never a fight about how much Yuuri put him through, Yuuri understood that he didn’t care about picking up his own pieces, but Victor’s instead.

He understood he’d go to the ends of the earth to find the last scrap, the bits they’d torn off each other and left behind all across the world with each disaster and near miss. This meeting with Minako had been Yuuri’s biggest fear come true, and knowing that Victor had willingly ruined himself more just to keep Yuuri from hurting was something he couldn’t understand.

So they lay there in the silence echoed by the rest of house, clinging to each other on that bed in a room full of both of their things, suits, guns, money, jewellery, their veritable small fortune that was nothing to what they once had. And for once, all those invisible layers, the masks and the games and the last parts of themselves they’d both been trying to hide, the bits of themselves they’d ignored, fear, anxiety, regret, revenge; all there in plain sight.

“Why do you go this far for me, Victor?” Yuuri eventually whispered into his hair, kissing the crown of his head, pulling him closer. He’d never asked this specific question, never wanted to face the fact that Victor would live in a constant state of pain just so they could be together, he’d never truthfully accepted the fact that Victor would die for him, because Yuuri wasn’t worth it.

Of all the burdens Yuuri carried on his shoulders; Victor’s life was the biggest, a blessing that had him soaring weightless one moment, and drowning as the heavy weight pulled him under the next. How could he ever hope to be a person worthy enough to stand by his side like this, how could he be a person that Victor would suffer endlessly for? 

He thought maybe Victor wouldn’t answer him, that maybe after all this; a small part of Victor would resent him after all. He couldn’t blame him for that either, Yuuri wouldn’t blame him for anything ever. He wouldn’t blame Victor for killing him, wouldn’t blame Victor for hurting him, because whatever Victor did he would always have a reason for.

Minutes passed, time for Yuuri to accept that it wasn’t going to be the same between them anymore, and so he held Victor tighter, tried to pull him together even as it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

His own tears gathered then, pooled in the direction of gravity as he lay on his side, and finally trailed down across his face to disappear into the fabric of his pillow. 

Maybe they’d left it too long after all.

It was as he shut his eyes that Victor stirred, as he took a deep breath and let it out into Yuuri’s chest before he finally pulled back and propped himself up on an elbow. Even now he still looked beautiful, he still looked like the world, hair mussed up, cheeks flushed, eyes red even as those pupils focused on him like a mirror of Yuuri’s own soul.

And Victor Nikiforov had the grace to _smile_ at him, a gentle curve of his lips as soft as the thumb he ran over Yuuri’s cheek, as forgiving as the look in his eye that said even now he couldn’t stand the fact that Yuuri was hurting, that it was okay, that they were still close, that they were still fine.

“Why are you crying, Yuuri?” Victor whispered, carding a hand made for murder and chaos through his hair, a hand that would _never_ hurt him. And the tears wouldn’t stop falling. 

“Because I’m sorry.” he managed to admit, managed to choke it out past the ball of pain clogging his throat.

“Why? You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” and Victor was the one trying to soothe him now, trying to lean forward and kiss away the moisture on his eyes even as Yuuri tried to hide his face, tried to hide his shame and the fact that he was so helplessly selfish. 

Understanding fell further from his reach, out of comprehension because how could any human on earth be this selfless? Especially Victor Nikiforov of all people. 

“I’m sorry I cant do the same for you.” Yuuri whispered then, and even as he said it it ripped at him, tore him even further apart and burnt him in the fire of their own making. 

How was it that even now that Victor managed to surprise him? In every single thing he did. Because that smile vanished and turned into a look of appeasement, he pushed Yuuri flat against the mattress and straddled his stomach, caged Yuuri in and pressed their noses together. He reduced their world to just the two of them, looked at Yuuri like he was the only thing that ever mattered.

“Our feelings aren’t a competition, Yuuri.” he hummed first, then pressed their noses firmer together and huffed another smile, “And you only think you wouldn’t do the same, but you would, you’d just spend a little longer thinking about it than me.” 

His hands were cupping Yuuri’s face then, warm and delicate even as his callouses ran over Yuuri’s cheeks, down to his chin and up his jaw. Victor’s eyes were twinkling with new tears of his own then, the stars that Victor had promised him so long ago. 

“Yuuri, what sort of partner would I be if I asked you to choose between one pain and another when there’s an option for neither?” and he had a minor pout on his lip, offended about this of all things, that Yuuri didn’t think he deserved that sort of mercy.

“You’d still be a better one than me.” each word was like glass in his throat as he struggled not to sob, to let it take hold of his body and have him curling over on himself instead.

Victor wouldn’t let him look away though, those fingers held his face where it was, firm with a touch that spoke only of devotion. And Victor kept looking into his soul finally laid bare, his eyes _pleading_ for Yuuri to understand, for Yuuri to stop thinking this way. 

“You’re wrong.” Victor sighed a breath of warm air onto his lips. “You’ll never know just how much you’ve done for me, Yuuri, how much you’ve given me, how much you’ve really _saved_ me.” 

“How?” how was it possible to ever come close to what Victor had done for him, how was it that Victor would still give even though there was nothing left, the constriction around his throat was suffocating, this vice grip made of years of their self torture, lungfuls of the smoke from a fire that they’d started. 

And Victor wouldn’t stop crying even as he smiled down at Yuuri with their noses touching, with their eyes finally seeing each other with no masks left to take off. Who would have thought that peeling off the final layer would be this painful? Their Masquerade was over; and underneath it all was the ugliest disaster of a relationship, two human beings that had used those masks to hold themselves together. 

“How, Victor?” Yuuri croaked again, because this was something he so desperately wanted to know, something he needed so he could stop this lancing pain in his chest that was draining him body and soul. 

“Because you’ve given me something your own people took from me 25 years ago. A family, Yuuri, you’re it, _my_ family.” 

With that, he kissed Yuuri to keep him from talking back, closed the gap to attach Yuuri’s lips to his, and it was only the start of putting things back together. Yuuri couldn’t help but clutch Victor’s shirt at the realisation of what it meant. This was forever now, their family of two. So he curled his fists into the cotton and held on to something beyond his wildest dreams, because with this Victor had given him everything he could ever want and more.

It was slow, lazy, discovering their feelings for each other all over again as their will, their conviction and spirit coalesced into one driving force. And Yuuri wanted it to never end, but Victor gave him a final peck before stopping to look at him again, to pull away and drown Yuuri in the current of his eyes as everything they’d been through played out in their heads.

“We’ve been through a lot in five years, haven’t we?” Yuuri hummed as he shut his eyes and pulled Victor’s face close to him again, fingers around the nape of his neck, played in the fuzz of his undercut, foreheads touching as they both thought about his question. 

In five years they’d gone through hell after hell just for one tiny glimpse of heaven, they’d both nearly died at times, and they’d both cried at times. Just like they were now. It was more heartbreaking than it ever would be a happy ending, more tragic than romantic, and still Yuuri wouldn’t have it any other way.

And Victor just hummed his own agreement before he chuckled, his weight bearing down on top of Yuuri as he relaxed further and sunk lower on his stomach. 

“I’ll never forget the day I met you, Yuuri.” he was smiling like it was his happiest memory, eyes crinkled at the corners with flushed cheeks, “I had no idea what to expect from you. We kept tabs on your family for my entire life, I felt like I knew you already.”

Surprise didn’t even cover it for Yuuri then, shaken, absolutely shocked because it’d been exactly the same for Yuuri - so all he did was _laugh_ , what were the chances that in this their lives had been mirror images of each other, that they’d been watching each other all this time up until the day they met. 

“Yuuuuri,” came the whine as Victor cast a suspicious gaze down at him now, “Why are you laughing?”

And Yuuri kept laughing, kept giggling as he wrapped his arms around Victor and pulled him against his chest with a whoomf of air from his lungs because Victor wasn’t expecting his either. He fell into the hug nonetheless, tucked his head under Yuuri’s chin and breathed this sigh that let go of a life time’s worth of tension. 

“I’m laughing because I felt the same, I thought I was going to die, and then you brought me a drink.” his laughter was bouncing Victor on his chest, so he just squeezed him tighter, held him closer, and knew they’d come out better than they had been before.

Victor only hummed into his shirt, kissed the spot above his heart and pressed his forehead into the centre of Yuuri’s chest in his own quiet contemplation, “I was never going to kill you, Yuuri, I always thought you looked just as lost as me.” 

Silence took over as those words hit home, as they both realised they’d been drawn in by the same thing, this constant pull to appease the loneliness they saw in each other from the day they were old enough to understand what it really meant, what their lives meant.

“Mmm, and who would have thought that I’d find myself in you.” Yuuri mused out loud, stared at the white ceiling as he felt Victor vibrate with a feeling neither of them would ever be able to comprehend let alone put in words. 

He knew what he said would mean _everything_ to Victor, would give it all back, because even as Yuuri struggled to be this open, this forthcoming; he forged ahead anyway, because this conversation was something Victor had been wanting, needing for the longest time.

“And me in you.” Victor could only agree as he kissed Yuuri’s chest, smiled against his shirt and let them both fall away from reality as they reminisced. “Thank you, Yuuri.” 

They both knew there was never any thanks needed now though, this would be the last time, because they’d spend forever thanking each other otherwise. 

“Then, there was that time you stabbed me - 

“No no no! You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” Yuuri was the one huffing while Victor laughed now, as he sat up and looked at Yuuri like it hadn’t been one of their many close calls, one of the many times Victor gave up a part of himself.

“Of course not.” and it was pure _tease_ , because Yuuri would never stop being mortified about it, even out of all the things they’d done. “Because you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, Yuuri.”

“Victor, stoppppp.” now it was time to hide behind his hands, cover the blossoming colour on his cheeks as Victor kept chuckling, kept filling the room with a sound that felt like Yuuri’s very own brand of absolution.

“I won’t.” it was times like this when Yuuri remembered how playful Victor was, how absolutely _cheeky_ and sentimental he was, and it never failed to make Yuuri giddy, to make him shy and full of butterflies, warm and fuzzy all over. Victor _always_ did it on purpose. 

“And I’ll never forget the first time you seduced me with lingerie, or the second time, or the third time. I thought I was already crazy about you, and then wow! My boyfriend wears lace and I’m dead.” Victor was recalling it like he was talking about the state of the weather, like he was telling someone how his day at the office went, not like he was recalling the lust fuelled all nighters they’d pulled. The ruined hotel rooms, the painful want when they both knew it was coming, the pleasure that was too addicting to be something from this world. The _thrill_ of being so hooked on each other as they marked each other from the inside out. 

Even if looking back on it made Yuuri blush, he could still admit it was fun, could still say that having Victor in the palm of his hand was exhilarating. They’d both been stupidly reckless just to chase that feeling, and Yuuri would do it all over again if he could.

“Or that time I snuck into your building in St Petersburg and found you in your office.” and _that_ was something Yuuri wouldn’t ever forget as he added more memories to their conversation, “Ahhh! I still can’t believe I did that.” 

And as Yuuri looked at the gap through his fingers because he was _still_ hiding his face, he saw Victor’s eyes flash something devious and Yuuri knew he’d done it now. 

“Ho?” Victor smirked, “You can’t believe you knelt between my legs under my desk and deep throated my dick while I was trying, and failing I might add, to negotiate with a client?” his voice was low, antagonising as he made Yuuri remember _exactly_ how that day went. How he’d snuck into his office at the end of the day while it was just Victor, only to find he had a meeting in two minutes that he couldn’t avoid. The only place Yuuri could hide was under the desk, and things turned crazy from there. 

“I believe it, Yuuri.” Victor went on to tease further, “The look on my clients face when I leant back and told you to take it all the way in was priceless. There were rumours flying around for months that I had a pet. You, a _pet_.” and Victor was back to laughing now, this whole hearted chuckle at the very notion that someone as deadly as Katsuki Yuuri would be anyone’s pet.

That was more embarrassment than Yuuri could take, so he tried to smother himself in a pillow instead, tried to make the cool material underneath stop his cheeks from feeling like they were on fire. He couldn’t even laugh anymore, just groan as he tried to bury himself in all he soft blankets and cushions. And as usual, Victor wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t look away, Yuuuri!” Victor was doing that thing where he was pretending to sulk. He was pouting as he pulled the pillows away, as he took Yuuri’s hands away from his face and brought them up to his own lips, smiling against Yuuri’s scarred knuckles. He kissed them one by one as the weight of melancholy took over and they fell into quiet once more. 

“This reminds me of the Chung incident.” Yuuri recalled out loud, forcing himself to keep looking back so that after this they could move forward. Victor had sat on him back then too, for a different reason of course, but he still remembered that night being one of the best sleeps he’d ever had with Victor in _his_ bed. Now it was their bed, wherever they were. 

“Feels like so long ago now. I wish I could have killed Chung more than once.” Victor was still mumbling against his knuckles, giving them wet kisses as they both remembered the pain of that day.

“You knew I had a vest on, Victor, and still went that far for me.” it was a sore reminder about the state Victor had been in as Yuuri lay on the warehouse floor, out of breath after being shot with a kevlar vest on, but still very much alive. 

And now Victor looked down at him like he was hurting all over again, trying to hold himself together as he recalled yet another chaotic incident. “Because I could only think about what would have happened if you didn’t have a vest on, Yuuri.” 

They’d both thought back then that going through that would have been the worst thing that could happen to them. That was only two years into their relationship, and they’d been proven wrong after that, more than once. 

“Yeah. I know.” Yuuri sighed, feeling old wounds itch as they danced around subjects that even now neither of them wanted to recall, two incidents so close together that nearly cost them both everything including each other. 

But Victor was stronger than him, braver, so he shuffled back and sat on Yuuri’s hips instead, trailed his fingers under Yuuri’s shirt to push it all the way up and reveal the old gunshot wound on Yuuri’s stomach. This puckered silver scar that put Yuuri in bed for three long months, that put him closer to death’s door than either of them had ever been.

“That time, you weren’t wearing a vest…” came Victor’s hoarse whisper, he was looking down at the scar like people looked at regrets, unaccepting and unforgiving because some outcomes were too frightening to even think about. 

There was nothing to say in the moment, there was only the recollection of gun fire and blood as a third party tried to storm in on one of their negotiations and get rid of two of the biggest pieces in the game in one go. Victor Nikiforov, and Katsuki Yuuri who’d made a name in Japan as one of his family’s highest standing members. 

Eighteen months ago, only 6 months before Yuri Plisetsky saved his life in Beijing, a meeting at the port in Kyoto that should have gone off without a hitch as it usually did turned into complete chaos. They were meant to meet later that night too, instead they’d nearly been taken away from each other permanently. 

Victor and himself were the only survivors, and Victor had only survived because Yuuri took a bullet for him yet again. 

He’d never forget Victor’ frantic hands on the wound trying to stem the blood that wouldn’t stop flowing, he wouldn’t forget the look of Victor Nikiforov faced with _his_ biggest nightmare, composure lost as pain carved itself on his beautiful face. He wouldn’t forget his tears as they mixed with the blood on his cheeks, his desperate voice as he _begged_ Yuuri not to die. And most of all, he’d never forget seeing Victor break a little more, leave a part of himself there on the ground in Yuuri’s blood as Yuuri told him to run, to escape. The sirens were coming and they both knew what it would look like, Victor Nikiforov standing over Katsuki Yuuri’s dying body.

Yuuri had promised him something then, he’d promised to live, he’d just smiled up at Victor and rescheduled the date they had for that night moments before he lost consciousness. He didn’t know the exact details of what happened after that, the amount of money Victor had used to bribe the authorities to say they’d seen nothing. He only knew that Victor stayed long enough to see him put into the ambulance before he’d disappeared. Then, he’d woken up in a private hospital room connected to machines and monitors with Mari and Minako sitting at his bedside. 

Everyone knew it was a third party this time, and no one could blame Victor for leaving Yuuri for dead in order to save himself, why would the mafia stay to save a Katsuki? It didn’t stop putting the tension between the families at an all time high after 24 years though. As Yuuri recovered, he worked hard with Victor to try and put things between their two families back the way they were.

“I’d save you again, Victor, again and again.” Yuuri unfurled his fingers then as Victor still held them close to his lips, he caressed his jaw, cupped his face, and they both knew it was true. You only lived once, and Yuuri considered saving Victor to be one of his biggest feats. 

“I know.” was all Victor whispered back to him as he leant into the touch.

It was just one of the few times another group tried to come between them, and as they sat on the bed with the sunlight streaming through the front window, encompassed in one another just like the earth was with the sun and moon; Yuuri knew what they were both thinking of now. They were thinking of the time not even one month before Yuuri took the bullet for Victor, the time when they nearly burnt the world and themselves along with it. Their final tipping point.

He could see the memory on the tip of Victor’s tongue, the agony that would always be fresh, and Yuuri wished this recollection of the past would stop right then and there. 

“When you nearly got married, I thought I’d lost you for good, I thought you’d finally turned away from me, Yuuri.” Victor pushed ahead nonetheless, prodded at the old wound of the arranged marriage that chafed at Yuuri’s heart, a scar that would never fade, an ache that would always haunt him. 

They’d both learnt the hard way then, the _hardest_ way, that trusting someone with your life was completely different than trusting someone with your heart. They’d learnt that their relationship was pointless if they didn’t have both. Their eyes had been opened to how rough this was on them both, how much it would always hurt, and how it was never going to stop. 

“Don’t, Victor.” Yuuri’s throat tightened all over again as he thought about their darkest days, eyes stinging because if he did have one regret in life, it would be how he handled that train wreck . “Just… please don’t.”

They’d gone one memory too far, Victor could see the look of self loathing on Yuuri’s face, the stale self hatred and remorse in his eyes, because Yuuri could never be sorry enough for that time. He could never save Victor enough to make up for it, and even now with everything in the open it was a bitter pill to swallow.

So as usual Victor took it upon himself to soothe Yuuri’s soul, to be the balm for all the scrapes and scars, to be strong enough to carry the hurt for them both.

“It’s okay, Yuuri.” the whisper dissipated the hurt, dissolved it in Victor’s affection as he leant back down to press their foreheads together again, “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now.” 

And Victor was always trying to shut him up with kisses, he was always succeeding too, because he kissed Yuuri again, a slow press of their mouths until lips parted and tongues met.

This time they didn’t stop, didn’t pull away to talk or relive the past anymore, they let the heat build back up after they’d steeped themselves in the cold water of the ocean at the beach, the revelations from Minako that had them both frozen.

Yuuri thought he could die right here and be okay with it, kissing Victor without the fear that it might be the last, burying his hands in his soft hair before Victor could break the kiss.

He felt Victor’s lips curve against his as he smiled, felt his contented hum echo through them both as he pulled just far enough away to talk.

“Yuuri, you’re hard at time like this? You just want me for my body after all, I’m hurt.” and he wiggled his hips on top of Yuuri’s groin for good measure, gave him this lascivious smirk that had Yuuri stuttering at the mocking accusation.

“You’re on top of me, I can’t help it.” Yuuri stammered the words as he tried to hide again, he wondered if he’d ever get used to Victor’s teasing. A small part of him hoped he never did, because Victor laughed at him all over again, kissed the hands on top of Yuuri’s face before he set Yuuri on fire for all the right reasons.

Gentle fingers around Yuuri’s wrist; Victor pried a hand away and pressed it to his own half hard want, “Me too, Yuuri.”

And oh, that was it for Yuuri, it was enough to give him the courage to kiss Victor again, to knead the length of Victor’s cock through the fabric of his pants, enough to wipe any other thought away from both their minds except the need to feel.

“How do you want to do it?” Victor kissed the words against his temple as their hands wandered under shirts to touch skin, as he ground down his hips and had Yuuri gasping at the friction.

Yuuri knew exactly how he wanted it, he knew he wanted to give something back to Victor even if it was just this one small thing, so it was rough kissing, nipping at Victor’s lip as he pushed him back on the bed to straddle his hips instead. 

All Victor did was groan as they both sat upright, grasping at Yuuri’s ass to pull him down onto his hips for pressure and heat.

“Just tell me one more thing, Yuuri” Victor’s voice was husky already as he looked up at Yuuri with reverence, paused in the heat of the moment to make sure of one last thing.

“What is it?” Yuuri took his turn to touch noses then, to slow it down and savour this moment because it would never happen again. The last five years had all been building up to this point, it would be another memory for them tomorrow too, so Yuuri wanted to make it the best one yet.

“Tell me you’re happy, Yuuri.” it was whisper soft, Victor’s small request, a gentle plea for the only thing Victor wanted as they sat there, bodies pressed close as they cradled each other’s faces in their hands.

And Yuuri was hopeless after all, the sob that burst from his chest was the kind that Victor wanted, something neither of them really deserved, two people like them. Two criminals who ruined lives and tore families apart, two people who intimidated and spiked fear in others, two people who didn’t fucking care about any of it at all, they only cared about the person in front of them right now. 

Everything else could burn.

They’d both given up their names, their positions, they’d given up everything just to be here in this room, on this bed in each other’s arms with the sun warming them both through the window. And even if they didn’t have the suits worth someone’s monthly wage, the guns that robbed people of life, the millions that Victor had saved from his own accounts and companies; they’d still have it all. They’d have more.

Yuuri finally understood just how fortunate he was as he looked into Victor’s eyes so close to his, as they shared the same air and the same knowing smile. Yuuri knew now, you were only rich when you had something money couldn’t buy.

“I’m the happiest person alive, Victor.” Yuuri sighed into his lips, spoke out loud how he really felt, and Yuuri didn’t think it was possible, but Victor’s smile grew. 

It showed his pearly white teeth as his eyes shimmered, as his breath caught in his throat with surprise, and he just shut his eyes and let _peace_ cross his face. He could see Victor let the words sink in, could see it fix the final broken pieces, he could see Victor’s own happiness purely because Yuuri was too.

“That’s my line.” Victor mumbled at last.

Their kisses then were clumsy as they grinned into each other’s mouth, toothy and messy as they laughed and tried to undress each other without breaking contact.

Soon enough he was sitting on Victor skin on skin, no clothes in the way as they relished the feel of each other’s flesh, kisses open mouthed and loud in the silence of their bedroom. It was enjoying each other’s bodies all over again, ignoring the want between their legs so they could make it last, so they could reconnect properly and find even more of themselves in each other.

“Victor, more.” Yuuri couldn’t hold out for long, his control long since gone with the events of the day to take it from him, all he wanted was more of Victor, more of the person he couldn’t live without. 

There was no teasing now, no skirting around what they both wanted, Victor shifted them both so he could sit against the headboard with Yuuri straddling his lap, then he leant to the side to rummage through the nightstand.

“Not this.” Yuuri had the condom out of Victor’s hands and flying across the room before Victor could even sit back upright.

“We’ve just had a shower, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled at him as he popped the top on a small bottle with a crack, Yuuri’s stomach twisted in knots as he watched Victor coat his fingers, and Yuuri couldn’t wait anymore.

He was nipping at Victor’s earlobe before he could put the bottle aside, rutting against Victor’s abs for friction, for _feeling_ as he panted in Victor’s ear. “We’ll have another one, I want to feel you properly.” 

Victor groaned again as Yuuri took his soft earlobe in between his teeth and pulled, but he gave in anyway, “As you wish, my Yuuri.” 

It was back to looking into Victor’s eyes then, focusing on those pupils of abyss as Victor slid his hand in between Yuuri’s thighs, it was moaning into Victor’s mouth as Victor slowly pressed his fingers inside and curled them in just the right spot. 

As usual, Victor took his time fingering Yuuri open, scissoring them to make Yuuri tremble, grinding them in knuckle deep to make them both need more. He was always diligent, because even in this the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Yuuri. And it was maddening in its own way, feeling his body coil around those fingers inside him as he whined into Victor’s mouth, as Victor whispered back to him how perfect he was, how beautiful he was.

“I’m ready, Victor, quick.” Yuuri was shaking now, his own cock achingly hard and wet as he clenched around Victor’s fingers for more, hating when Victor pulled them out but loving what it meant was coming next.

He raised himself up on his knees then, pulled his ass cheeks apart and sat back down as Victor positioned his length so Yuuri could sink himself down onto it, bottom himself out and drop all his weight onto Victor’s hips.

“Fuck, Yuuri.” Victor grit out through clenched teeth, chest heaving as he dug his fingers into the flesh of Yuuri’s ass cheeks, as he pulled them apart and pushed them back together just for sensation’s sake.

It was lightning up his spine as Yuuri rolled his hips back and forward, electric and nerve tingling as their bodies moved against each other.

The rhythm was _slow_ , one breath forward, one breath back, this pace that had Yuuri’s mouth falling open so he could chant Victor’s name like the prayer it was.

Victor watched him all the while, his eyes trained on Yuuri’s as he breathed in Yuuri’s offering, mouths whisper apart, breath hot against each other’s lips. 

“Say it louder, Yuuri, for the whole house to hear.” Victor rumbled from somewhere in his throat, that voice he used to make Yuuri crumble and do anything he asked. Yuuri would do it anyway.

Because this was exactly how Yuuri wanted it, right here and now with curtains open so the world could see, the door to their room ajar so that everyone could hear, he’d kept this to himself for too long. Now that Yuuri finally had it all he wanted everyone to know, this wasn’t going to stay hidden anymore. 

So he threw his head back and screamed as Victor pulled Yuuri’s weight up and let it drop back down, cried out Victor’s name as he ground back down, rolled his hips and clenched tight on Victor’s throbbing cock inside him.

They’d both been stripped of stamina, of endurance, drained body and soul from the day, it didn’t take long at all for the pressure to spike. Didn’t take long for Yuuri’s body to tense as he whimpered on the edge, for Victor harden further inside, throb and twitch as he bathed in Yuuri’s heat.

“Yuuri, I’m -

Victor didn’t get the chance to finish his warning, didn’t get the chance to say he was about to come, Yuuri smothered Victor’s moan with his own, keened into his mouth as he locked his hips down and came all over them both. Hips stuttered as he felt Victor let it all out inside, felt the welcome heat of Victor coming in pulses as they chased their own orgasms with a slow grind to try and draw out their high.

They rolled their bodies together as they both crumbled in the best way, gasped as they tried to come back from bliss, breathing heavy as Yuuri slumped against Victor’s chest.

He could hear Victor’s heart still racing like his own, feel him coming down as they tried to pull themselves together, and at last he heard Victor start humming that tune again. 

_Stay close to me, and never leave._

Yuuri embraced that song as he relaxed against Victor’s body, uncaring of the mess between his legs or on his skin, instead he hummed alongside Victor for the first time ever, that song he knew well. 

Victor’s fingers trailed up and down the tattooed skin of his back as they echoed each other, and from all this mess, from all the bits and pieces, from parts of themselves they’d thought lost; Yuuri knew they’d made something new.

Something unbreakable. 

* * *

The curtains were closed to the dark outside now, their door shut, the silence spread through all corners of the house. Gentle sounds of the ocean carried in the darkness, the swish of water as the tides changed with the coming of the moon. Yuuri sat against the headboard awake nonetheless, played his fingers in Victor’s shower damp hair as he slept on the pillow beside him.

He’d never seen Victor sleep this deep, never seen him this content, he’d been so thoroughly rung out from the last five years and it’d finally caught up with him. And so it was Yuuri’s turn to stay up and keep watch, to appreciate the line of his jaw and the curve of his lip. He smiled at the way Victor pouted even in his sleep, the soft flutter of his eyelids, the way his hair fell across his face and across the pillow.

He’d never wanted to protect something so much in his life, that look on Victor’s face, his smile, his laugh, his _soul_. It was a new burn he was feeling now, this low heat in the back of his mind, a fire that would burn forever. A conviction that’d been forged from their unbreakable bond. 

Yuuri was almost _shaking_ as that feeling gripped him, this thing that could flip his switch and have him losing it just like Victor did, have him going berserk, have him incinerate everything just to keep Victor safe.

He wanted to _kill_ , wanted to get up and get this all over and done with so he could have Victor to himself, and as his phone buzzed on the nightstand next to him; Yuuri knew the opportunity had come.

Without even looking; he knew it was Phichit, no one else would call at this time of night.

“Phichit?” Yuuri murmured into the phone, watching Victor as he did so. Not even a stir, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. 

_”It’s a coincidence they’re in Bangkok, but there are people asking after a tattooed Japanese man.”_ Phichit relayed the information without preamble, without dancing around the subject.

“How many, do you know?” Yuuri pressed, feeling his blood start to simmer.

 _”Only 6, they’re all Korean._ ”

Six. Yuuri could do six if he planned it well, if he took methodical steps and surveyed the area well enough. He only had to kill five. The last one would carry a message to everyone else that tried.

“Do you know their location?” Yuuri questioned again as he swung out of bed to get ready.

He could hear Phichit laughing over the phone at his eagerness, understanding Yuuri all too well like only a life long friend could.

_”I’ll message it to you. Go crazy, Yuuri.”_

“Don’t worry, I will.” 

* * *

Yuuri took his time getting dressed, setting everything in place, his suit, his holsters, his knives, his new mask made of resolve and will power. Victor slept through it all, hugging the pillow that Yuuri slept on, beautiful even in his sleep.

He double checked everything, triple checked, and finally Yuuri was ready. 

He stole one last glance at Victor’s face before he shut the door to their bedroom behind him, and he let that fire inside consume him.

It was time to stop doing things in warm up mode. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	10. Interlude: Part One - Standing On The Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all. The higher I get the lower I'll sink, I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the delay, I was going to post this as a complete extra, but the size has got away from me so it's going to be in two parts.
> 
> This is an interlude about the arranged marriage, set two years before the current time line so please note the differences in ages to suit the timeline. 
> 
> Also, please note this chapter does contain some dark and possibly harmful trains of thought, as well as anger issues and actions that lead to self harm.
> 
> Typos as usual.

Something was wrong, Victor could feel the sense of wrong seep into his bones. 

It’d been like this for weeks, this unease growing in his gut, this unspoken dread gnawing at his every waking thought no matter where he was or what he was doing. It invaded his dreams like this sleeping sickness, had him jolting awake in the pitch of night covered in cold sweat, lungs burning, alone in his always empty bed. 

It wasn’t baseless, Victor wasn’t stupid enough to believe something was wrong just because his gut told him so, only a fool would cling to that sort of logic, fools died fast, and Victor didn’t have plans on dying any time soon. 

Yet Victor was already hoping that despite the small amount of information he’d been given, despite things that already pointed towards him being right, that he was a fool, that it was a mistake, that everything was fine.

There was only one thing that could go wrong in his life, and that was anything to do with Katsuki Yuuri, and when things went wrong with Yuuri, it always hurt more than he thought he could take. It was the fact it hurt at all that told Victor how far gone he was. 

Victor could feel the slowly encroaching terror, the creeping madness, this silent insanity that threatened to take hold because the truth was that he was powerless, and, he was always right. 

It wasn’t anything for Victor to worry about at first, one missed night that Yuuri had to call off, it happened, as much as Victor loathed any time that it did. Waiting a little longer only made seeing Yuuri the next time that much better, it only gave him more to look forward to, more to wake up for, more to live for, more to strive for. It gave him _something_ , because before Yuuri he had nothing.

It started off with one missed meeting between them, he hadn’t thought anything of it at all, until their rescheduled meet up got put off too, until the message that canceled it was only a few words that said Yuuri wasn’t coming, and that he was sorry.

That was when the first seed of fear spread its roots, this uncontrollable weed that’d only grown three weeks since then no matter how hard he tried to suffocate it. Since then, messages from Yuuri had been sporadic and vague, they’d been _distant_ , it felt like Yuuri was trying to pull away even as Victor wanted to get closer. 

Since then, his ugly feelings for Katsuki Yuuri began to rear their head, it was all he could think about, all he could care about, it was all he couldn’t sleep about, all he couldn’t eat about. With every text that filled only one single line Victor only found himself more irritable, with every unanswered phone call he only found that fear growing, with every question he asked that didn’t get answered he only came closer to something that was less himself and something much more unsightly instead. The chronic ache in his chest that longed for Yuuri was almost crippling.

Business, legal and otherwise, was all going perfectly, no one wanted to test Victor Nikiforov’s patience when he stopped putting on his business smile and wore murder instead. None of the men wanted to be in the same room as him let alone push their luck. Victor’s control on his temper was infamous, what happened when he lost it was also just as well known, and his hold was slowly beginning to fray. 

This thing that was the best and worst thing that’d ever happened to him had been going on for over three years now, the day he met Yuuri was a day he’d never forget, the day his life changed forever more. 

On his 10th birthday, the day Victor was deemed old enough to understand his position was when he’d first learnt Yuuri’s name, and he’d never forget that too, seeing a photo of a boy not that much younger than him and being told that this person was his rival. Yakov had bribed his way through hospitals and birth records in Japan to find the truth about Hiroko’s child, and the truth was Katsuki Yuuri.

And it was funny how even now, Victor would still stand by that age old saying of ‘the truth hurts’, because nothing could ever hope to hurt him more than Yuuri.

He’d never forget seeing that first photo and being absolutely shaken, shaken because of the absolute emptiness on the face of a child just like him, the hollow eyes and flawless mask of someone with too many things to hide. Victor was still a child himself, and he’d never forget when Yakov told him that Yuuri had been given away. He remembered thinking that like him, Yuuri had essentially lost his parents too.

He remembered thinking that it wasn’t Yuuri’s fault, how could it be when he hadn’t even _existed_ when it all happened? Victor was 26 years old now, and he’d maintained that thought for the last 16 years, he would until the day he died. 

There was never any line to cross for Victor, from the moment he knew about Yuuri it’d ceased to exist. 

So he'd grown up along side Katsuki Yuuri with the photos and information Yakov gave to him to try and nurture enmity and indifference. Yuuri grew as he grew, older, taller, smarter, yet over the years his eyes remained just as empty, his expression just as cold, always a few steps away from those around him. He’d always wondered what Yuuri was hiding behind that expression of his, and so instead of enmity all Victor felt was increasing curiosity that mounted as they both turned into young men.

Maybe that’s when his obsession with Yuuri started, maybe that’s when this madness first took him, this possessiveness that told him Yuuri was only for him to figure out and no one else. 

The day he met Yuuri that’s all he’d wanted to do, figure him out. He hadn’t been expecting to find the stunning human being in the photos to be an adorable blushing mess in real life, he hadn’t expected Yuuri to look at him the way he did, with fear and _reverence._ He hadn’t expected 19 year old Yuuri to let his guard down and get halfway drunk, he hadn’t expected Yuuri to take his hand and ask for more, to see him again like it was all Yuuri wanted.  
Most of all, he hadn’t expected all of his own walls to crumble, never could Victor have prepared himself for the feeling of Yuuri’s body so close to his as they stood in that empty street, never could he have expected the feeling of not wanting to let go of something for the very first time.

That was probably it, the moment it all became hopeless, the moment Victor lost control, because it was most certainly the moment Victor became indefinitely hooked on Katsuki Yuuri. 

Three _long_ years since then, three years simultaneously with and without Yuuri, and he’d grown into one of the most quietly formidable men that Victor knew. He’d fallen deeper than he ever thought he would, hurt more than he thought he could, and found more joy in one single human being than he thought was possible. He found something he thought he never needed, someone who gave him humility, someone who gave him an honest smile, someone who surprised him time and again with every single thing he did. 

The thing that Yuuri didn’t realise was how amazing he was, how he’d grown from nothing, the world thought him orphan of the infamous gang war who’d been ‘adopted with the Katsuki name’, he’d _earned_ his faceless reputation of the Katsuki’s negotiator and cleaner all by himself. So many people knew about the man the Katsuki’s sent to do their dirty work, even if they didn’t always know his name or what he looked like. 

  
The other thing that Yuuri didn’t know was that Victor was nothing compared to him, Victor who’d been born with his reputation, handed to him from the day he was born while Yuuri forged his own from the dirt, he’d made his own name for himself under the tutelage of that woman. There was no way Victor could ever hope to compare to that. 

Victor only knew so much about opinions surrounding Yuuri because he made it an effort to know about anything anyone ever said about him, be it rumours or truth, good things or bad. Yakov thought it was because of the enmity he’d tried to instil, when really it was just because Victor wanted to know everything about the only person he cared for. 

It would take more than a few years, but he knew Yuuri could only keep thriving from here, grow into something more so that people would know his face and his name whatever his family had planned for him be damned. And with a sick sense of pride, he could hardly wait, he wanted to see Yuuri flourish, he wanted _everyone_ to know how insanely capable Yuuri was even without the label of son or heir.  
He wanted to see him get all the things he deserved and more, and yet at the same time Victor couldn’t stand the thought of any of it, because it meant they would still be apart, it meant it would be _harder_ to be together, more difficult to have Yuuri all to himself. And most of all, he wanted the latter: Yuuri to himself, every inch of skin, every hair on his head, every laugh, every open expression, every morning, every night, every _waking_ moment.  


He wanted to occupy Yuuri’s every thought, his dreams, he wanted Yuuri to think about him just as much was what Victor thought of Yuuri. The lines between want and need were slowly beginning to blur, there was no moment in time where it changed from one thing to the other, it was this slow transition of falling away from the world and being left with only one thing on his mind, Yuuri. In the years ahead, Victor knew it would only get worse, that his feelings for Yuuri would only get more out of control, he knew that being together would only be more dangerous for them both, that everything was just going to be more painful. And still Victor wouldn’t change a thing, he would welcome any extra scrap of time that Yuuri belonged to him. 

It looked like that foretelling of difficulty was already proving to be true however, because three weeks ago Victor had been passed half a rumour about a union between the Katsuki’s and another powerful family in Japan. It was true that people were desperate to marry into the Katsuki’s, and since the only _known_ child of Toshiya and Hiroko refused to marry, it only left single members of the wider family for other families to offer themselves to. 

The first and _only_ thing he’d thought of when he heard was Yuuri. 

Even though the other families wouldn’t know the truth about Yuuri, he’d still be sought after, especially in his own country where he’d already made his mark. Victor knew of two offers already that’d been turned down from Yuuri’s father himself, two young women from minor families who thought to give their daughter’s hands in marriage to Yuuri. The thought of Yuuri having a wife made him physically ill, nauseous with disgust. 

That’s the way it would go, that much Victor knew, Yuuri would be _given_ someone, he wouldn’t be the one being given away. The very notion of someone clinging to Yuuri had Victor baring his teeth, because something so pathetic as that wasn’t worthy of Yuuri, in Victor’s mind no one was worthy of Yuuri, not even Victor himself.

If it was the family in question though, that would change everything. The Suwabe family were equals on every level with Yuuri’s family, they ran a pharmaceutical empire worth hundreds of millions, had strong connections to politics and the government, and underneath it all they ran one of Asia’s largest blackmarket drug rings. 

If Victor thought about it, the Suwabe’s and the Katsuki’s were an optimal combination, Yuuri’s family, Japan’s biggest firearms dealers and traffickers among a long list of other things, joining with Japan’s biggest drug syndicate who could get away with anything. It would put them well and truly on top, and Victor was loathe to admit he could see the sense in it. 

They also didn’t have any daughters, and so over the past three weeks Victor’s mind ran away with possibilities. Katsuki Mari might marry after all, one of the other families under the head family might have someone eligible, someone worth the Suwabe’s time. There was more than one option, yet Victor could only think about the one single option that was the most viable of all, Yuuri being paired up with the eldest son.

The eldest son was 23, only a year older than Yuuri, he was cunning with a proven business head on his shoulders, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, he was capable, though not half as deadly or ruthless as Yuuri. People expected things of the oldest son of a family like his and by all accounts he’d delivered. 

He was also what people would call attractive, the same height as Yuuri, shaggy black hair with strong cheek bones and a sharp jaw line, he was confident, self assured, ambitious. Worst of all, it seemed he had no trouble dating men or women, a perfect candidate to match up with Yuuri as an equal. 

It was only a tidbit he'd heard, there was nothing concrete, and yet after three weeks, after thinking about it all day everyday, the less he heard from Yuuri, the more convinced Victor was that the sky was falling.

And Victor realised he was _scared_ , because if it was true, then what if Yuuri had finally turned away from Victor and his ugly feelings after all? He couldn’t put a name to the feeling that seized his heart at even the mere thought.

Today was the worst so far, because today he was expecting more news. The third party contractors he’d hired had been given their ultimatum, come back with solid evidence, with photos and information, or forfeit their lives. It was always the most effective way to make sure someone did their job properly. 

So he attended meetings throughout the day, met with a politician who wanted in on trade routes through Mongolia, he wanted to dip his hands in blackmarket money and fall in the mafia’s good graces. He went to the industrial docks to make sure the container of military grade weapons that’d just arrived made it onto the train that was going to Vladivostok. He even went shopping, ordered new suits and shoes, waist coats and ties that he knew would drive Yuuri and his suit fetish crazy.  
He went to his favourite cafe along the St Petersburg canals, a place where people their age went to be normal and worry about mediocre things. He sat by himself with a coffee and looked at all the mismatched art on the walls, the food local only to this city, he looked outside at the sights of cobblestone streets and domed buildings along the thoroughfare, and he wished Yuuri were here. 

He thought about everything that hurt, going shopping together and picking out things for each other instead. He thought about kissing Yuuri senseless in the fitting room and the blush he would get in turn. He the thought of Yuuri sitting in the opposite chair to him, eating the things Victor had grown up on, losing himself in the sights that Victor saw every day. He thought about walking along those cobblestone streets, walking across the old bridges with the gargoyle statues and multitudes of tourists around. Victor thought about showing Yuuri everything with Yuuri’s hand in his, and he knew it could never happen.

Looking at his lone hand on the table, skin warm under the sun’s touch like this mockery of the human heat he craved, and as his coffee went untouched, cold as the dread in his heart, Victor felt control and everything he loved slip further from his reach. His phone sat on the table face down, buzzing and beeping as it always did, and he knew none of it would be from Yuuri.

So he put too much money on the table to pay his bill and left, head held high, expression severe as he took his own car back to the office headquarters. He already knew what the news was going to be, and he was already trying to lock down the inevitable explosion of toxic impulses that would try and take over.

It was the end of the day when he sat in his office chair in front of a large mahogany desk, hands clasped together on the polished surface as three men stood in front of him with the news Victor knew was going to send him over the edge.

They were all part of the same family, they all had the same dirty blond hair and dull grey eyes, they were all extremely good at their job. The silence was oppressing as Victor stared down at the thick brown envelope he’d been presented with, fully aware of their carefully blank expressions as anyone was when you were talking to Victor Nikiforov about anything to do with the Katsuki family. Everyone knew the only one he tolerated was Yuuri and his retinue. 

The late afternoon sun cast a sharp glare through the window behind him, throwing the room into sinister shadows and acute angles that did nothing to help Victor’s mood. Yakov was away in Moscow on important business, which was just as well, Yakov was expecting the news too, for his own reasons, Victor’s of course were different, and so would his reaction be too..

Victor had never been so hesitant for news about Yuuri before, and he decided that whatever was in this envelop was best viewed alone, behind closed doors with no one else to hear or see him. 

All he needed from them was one simple answer, and then he could send them on their way.

“It’s as I thought?” Victor questioned as he leant back in his chair, legs folded under his desk as he tried to hold in his instinct to snarl. 

They all nodded as one, a single dip of their head to confirm what they’d been sent to find, and Victor could feel all the threads of himself snapping one by one.

“It looks like everything is settled, they’re expected to set a date within the week.” The eldest brother, Nikolai, stepped forward to offer none of the words Victor really wanted to hear. Victor could hear his teeth grind in his own head as he listened, felt his body seize up, he felt the room turn cold even as his blood _boiled_. And it was like even the silence was too scared to breathe, the earth too afraid to turn, the sun too shaken to set, everything _stopped_ as Victor Nikiforov desperately tried to hold on. He needed to know the whole story before he set the world on fire. 

He forced himself to take a breath, then another before he finally peeled his fingers apart from each other one by one to wave a hand of dismissal at the trio.

“That will be all.” he grit the words out one by one, uncaring of the unease on their faces or the nervous way they shifted their feet, he knew he looked murderous, and he didn’t care, there was no way he could bring himself to give them one of his fake smiles even now. Instead he just counted the seconds one by one as their backs disappeared through the door of his office, he felt time _taunt_ him as the door behind them took so long to close and click shut. 

It felt like an eternity until he was alone in his office with the brown envelope on his desk, yet an eternity still wouldn’t be long enough to prepare him for this. 

So he simply ripped the top off the envelope, tore it in messy strips of paper until he could slip his fingers inside and pull out its contents. 

Victor realised his heart was beating _too_ fast as he laid everything out in front of him on his desk without actually seeing any of it, detailed reports of everything the men had seen and heard while in Japan, interactions between the families and their businesses. 

He could feel the panic begin to take him as he read it all, the fact that Yuuri had been staying at the branch headquarters in Tokyo while his father visited from Hasetstu. He’d been to the joint gatherings and meetings, spent time alone with the Suwabe family. They’d given Yuuri the reins for a large scale narcotic sale with the Chinese and had seen him at work. The report said that Yuuri killed three people without warning to make his point clear that he wasn’t willing to negotiate on the set price, and the sale went as well as it ever could. Of course it would, because it was _Yuuri_. 

Yuuri had even attended a high class political function with the other man, Suwabe Ryuu, he’d been surrounded by politicians, members of the government, and anyone else with enough power and influence who wanted to go. Yuuri’s family already had connections to the police and law enforcement, it wasn’t uncommon for someone from his family to attend, but it was unheard of for Yuuri to be the one going however. Victor knew how much he hated being in a room full of fake people and false appearances. He knew how much Yuuri would have hated _every single second_ of that pointless social event. 

Victor thought he was coping, thought he was taking it all in with a clear head as much as he could, processing it all as he normally did, putting it all together with logic as his tool. He was _trying_ to find some way around this, some reason as to why Yuuri would let it get this far, because he knew Yuuri would put up a fight before this could ever happen. He'd always thought there was no way Yuuri would ever leave him alone. 

Then, Victor finally got to the stack of photos that accompanied the reports, and suddenly there was no such thing as coping at all. 

He couldn’t go through this again, _couldn’t_ bear looking at those photos on his desk of someone he didn’t recognise, someone he didn’t know with a mask plastered on so thick that not even Victor could see him any more. The Yuuri before they'd even met looked right back at him, and the part of himself that Yuuri had invaded, the part behind all his walls and defences, the part Victor had never wanted to give to _anyone_ , the part that Yuuri had taken, it clenched in pain, burnt in his chest with no where to go and no where left to hide.

There was no end to his shaking as Victor pulled at his own hair, as his own breath betrayed him by stopping halfway up his throat to choke him. There was no stopping himself shutting down as he looked at the photos scattered on his desk.

There were photos of Yuuri surrounded by suit clad men just like him as his escort. There were photos of him getting in and out of glossy black cars as the families traveled to and from meeting each other. There were so _many_ photos of the two families together, congregating outside the mansions before heading in to no doubt share sakè and acquaint themselves more. And Yuuri was distant as always except for one single thing that was different, Suwabe Ryu standing by Yuuri’s side and looking like it was his god given place, standing there like he _belonged_ , like he had the right to stay close to Yuuri. 

Victor felt his heart descend into the abyss to be replaced with something unrecognisable, because he looked at the photos and he could see that the pair looked natural together, good together even as expressionless as they both were. 

And the thing that really had the knife called pain twisting his insides, the thing that had every ugly immeasurable emotion boiling over was none of that at all. 

No, it was because in every single photo that he saw, Victor could see at least one thing on Yuuri's face, he could see that Yuuri had finally given up. 

It seemed Victor was right after all, it was true, Yuuri had finally had enough of all this. He'd had enough of fighting, enough of trying to hold on to the impossible, enough of Victor and his toxic feelings that did more harm to them both than good. 

Even then, Yuuri would never want this, he’d never want to be surrounded by this many people, he’d never want to play this particular game of Masquerade, he’d hated to be used like this, and as much as Victor didn’t know Yuuri, he knew him enough to know this. Yuuri would have no say in all this. 

But didn’t Yuuri understand that even if Yuuri wouldn’t fight, couldn’t fight anymore, that Victor would do it for them both? Didn’t Yuuri understand that Victor would _never_ give up? 

And he thought about Yuuri being taken away from him in the worst way, taken away from him to be with someone else even as Yuuri still held on to the part of Victor that made him human, the thing that would always belong to Yuuri no matter what.

All he could see in his mind were those fucking photos, all he could think of was Yuuri uncomfortable in a room full of pretenders, all he could think of was that soulless expression that didn’t belong on a face that could smile so beautiful instead. And then there were the what ifs that had Victor reaching for his gun on impulse, the maybes that made Victor want to kill every single fucking thing in sight, the possibilities that made Victor _want_ to lose it and destroy everything that got in his way.

Maybe Suwabe had seen Yuuri smile, maybe he’d seen Yuuri’s skin covered in that beautiful ink, maybe he’d tried to get closer, maybe he thought that Yuuri really was his. Anyone who entertained fantasies like that needed to be erased.

And Victor wondered how they were in this place again so damn soon after the last incident, the place where someone was trying to come between them. It was just over a year after the Chung incident that’d nearly ripped them apart, only a year and Victor still _panicked_ at what could have happened if Yuuri hadn’t been wearing a vest that day. 

It was too much for Victor to take then, just as it was now. Fear makes you do a lot of things you normally wouldn’t, anger makes you justify even the most reckless of actions, the most self destructive.

So all he could do was lash out in the privacy of his office because there was no living thing in sight for him to obliterate. He knew this madness as he smashed everything in his reach, as he threw his phone across the room to shatter into something broken just like him against the far wall. And Victor let himself be pulled under as he picked his chair up and threw it into the middle of the room, his lap top went after it, everything on his desk, thrown as hard as he possibly could because he wanted it all to _break_. 

His desk was next, flipped on its side to crash into the ground as separation anxiety held him in its grips, and he was being poisoned by the smoke of his own damn fire, smothered in distress and terror because this was worse than Yuuri leaving him in death, because he could follow Yuuri to the grave and still be by his side. This was him not by Yuuri’s side in any life at all, not close to him while someone else was, and that was something Victor couldn’t accept.

Victor ruined everything that he could, paintings came down, glass smashed and frames stomped on, those damn files torn to shreds, scattered across the room in thousands of pieces of himself that Victor wouldn’t ever be able to pick up. 

He caged himself in that room and got swallowed up in the storm of his own making, and mindless, Victor let it all out. 

* * *

Ten minutes later, wrung out and emptied of any feeling whatsoever, jacket thrown off, holsters too tight, shirt spattered in blood from he didn’t know what, breathing hoarse, Victor was finally tired enough to stop. 

So he sat on the floor in the middle of his office that looked like how he felt on the inside, torn apart and wrecked, he looked at the reality of his feelings made real. 

It was just lucky that Victor wasn't a religious man after all, because the way he felt was so far from pure when it came to Yuuri, more like the embodiment of every major sin. Pride in the fact that Yuuri was his, greed in wanting Yuuri all to himself, gluttony in wanting _more_ when Yuuri was in his arms, sloth that made him disregard everything else, lust in his obsession with Yuuri’s body, envy when anyone came close to Yuuri, and absolute wrath when he did something about it. Victor was every single one of those things when it came to down to it. And they both knew it. 

Victor knew it was overwhelming at times, Yuuri knew the depths Victor would sink to for him, he’d seen it with his own eyes, the obsession and greed. He looked down at his bare hands that would dig to the other side of the earth to have Yuuri, found his knuckles skinned and bleeding from the walls he’d punched in, and he couldn’t feel a thing. He looked at the mess he’d made, what he’d done to himself, and he knew that feeling this way wasn’t healthy. 

This path would destroy him sooner or later, things like this were only going to happen again and again, it was only a matter of time, only a matter of when. When it did, it was only a matter of Victor falling too far over the edge. 

This would kill him, and yet Victor wouldn’t change it as long as Yuuri was his, he wouldn’t regret anything that had to do with Yuuri.

Maybe that’s what made Yuuri give up, the idea that this was for the best, Victor didn’t know, but he was going to find out, because not twelve hours later he was in Japan and on his way to start a fire that would turn everything to ashes.

* * *

Even though the evening light was dim in Tokyo, Victor could still see perfectly clear as he stood in the busy street outside the luxury home that the Katsuki’s owned in Tokyo.

Five minutes away from the centre of Azabu, the roads and side walks were still busy and thriving, traffic still flowing, street lights and passing cars a constant background stimulus when all Victor could really pay attention to was that house as he stood on the opposite side of the street.

It was all white rendered fence with the cliche black security gate, a towering modern three story building in the centre of the small property that was still large by Tokyo standards. It was minimalistic, paved stones and a small garden. So different to the traditional sprawling buildings that he knew Yuuri had grown up with in Hasestu. Along the street were homes that were all nearly identical, yet Victor knew this residence the moment he saw it. 

Numerous black cars were parked in front along the length of the street, glossy black Mercedes and Rolls Royces with tinted windows and polished chrome with men in black suits waiting at the driver’s door, it all screamed money and wealth, it screamed organised crime and illicit dealings. 

This was the world Yuuri lived in right now, it was something constantly monitored and controlled with a hierarchy between two families that made governments seem simple. It was so different to his usual freedom of the apartment he lived in, the tasks and jobs he got given that let him move about freely without eyes on him 24/7. Victor could almost feel the suffocation that Yuuri must be going through, the constant pressure of being under scrutiny as if he wasn’t always already.

Victor’s blood hadn’t cooled since he got the news, he hadn’t calmed down, and he’d only regained a slim hold on rationality. This could kill him today, he realised, Victor Nikiforov turning up on Japan by himself, unannounced and heavily armed, lurking on the other side of the street outside one the Katsuki’s many homes.

Once again, Victor couldn’t bring himself to care, because he knew Yuuri was in that building, his family, the Suwabe’s and their eldest son too, probably going over business mergers of the above ground and underground kind. 

He had unrealistic dreams of walking right up to the gate, scaling it and then walking right through the front door into the dragon’s lair to find Yuuri. His body screamed at him to move, to just do it so he could have Yuuri in his arms for even one second before he’d inevitably be shot to pieces. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Yuuri would never forgive him for it.

So he waited in the shadows while his new phone buzzed in his pocket with the sim card salvaged from the one he’d smashed, because this number was his only connection to Yuuri right now, that and the keys to his apartment in his breast pocket. He’d sent one text to Yakov, told him he was going to Japan to find things out for himself and left his men behind who had no idea where he’d gone. Surprised as he was, Yakov still agreed, only because he thought that Victor probably couldn’t stand the thought of the Katsuki’s gaining another foothold in the world. As civil as things were between the mafia and Yuuri’s family now, as inevitable as it was that two huge organisations would have to cross paths and deal with each other, Yakov still had this instinctual hate buried down deep, and it was always a good tool for Victor to harness. 

Forty five minutes had gone by when activity from the house finally piqued, the gate opened to let men and women alike walk out in pockets of casual conversation that Victor couldn’t understand. It was all black suits and swagger mixed with the traditional beauty of kimonos and yukata. Victor seethed, because it only reminded him that he hadn’t seen Yuuri in Yukata, yet. He could pick out the major players one by one, normally he would pay more attention to them, the heads of the Katsuki’s and the Suwabe’s respectively, Katsuki Mari, even the Okukawa woman, they were all blurred in his tunnel vision. 

And at the back, seperate from everyone else as usual except for the annoyance of Suwabe Ryuu next to him, was Yuuri. Seeing Yuuri after so long was just like seeing him for the first time all over again, it was always breath taking and heart stuttering, it was always butterflies and chaos, because photos would never do him justice. He was beautiful as he always was, perfectly dressed and presented, a picture of grace and dignity as he held his head high, brown eyes steady, jaw set, face unreadable apart from the one thing he could actually read from his eyes. Yuuri was exhausted.

There was no _fight_ in him, no fire, just the look of someone who’d had no will to care, and for two seconds Victor thought that maybe his own fire wouldn’t be enough to burn everything after all. There was this moment of _doubt_ that froze him in place, this mortification and helplessness, because what if all this time, he’d needed Yuuri more than Yuuri needed him? That was an agony that he’d never thought to feel. 

It was almost terrifying in itself how fast the blaze in his heart incinerated the feeling, because it took over anew as Victor could only watch everyone file onto the waiting cars to go god knows where. His eyes were for Yuuri only, just as they always were, and he was hit by an assault of doubts all over again as Suwabe edged closer to Yuuri, as Yuuri did nothing. 

He wondered how close they really were, had they touched, had they kissed, did they know they lay out of each others bodies already? Yuuri would never let someone push him that far, so if he was willing… He’d already taken one step across the sidewalk anyway, he already had his hand in his jacket, fingers around one of his weapons, because the image in his head made him furious beyond measure. 

And Suwabe was reaching out to touch Yuuri, to do something he wasn’t allowed, and Victor was going to cut that fucking hand off as soon as he got the chance, he’d use the rustiest blade with the most jagged edge, he’d make it hurt just as much as Victor was hurting right now. He was about to set foot onto the road, nearly under the bright illumination of a street light when his world stopped again. The sky felt a little less heavy, the ground under his feet that much more stable when Yuuri stopped to regard his company, and not even Victor could summon a look that full of distaste that said Yuuri would cut the hand off that touched him too. 

Even in his relief he was left more confused, more anxious and nervous, because if the pair weren’t together like that, it still didn’t change the fact that Yuuri had abandoned him.

“Yuuri.” Victor sighed his name out of habit, out of _want_ as he thought about crossing the street anyway, it rolled off his tongue soft just like Yuuri’s skin was under his fingers. 

And Yuuri _heard_ him, from the other side of the street Yuuri heard his name the way only Victor said it. Yuuri’s head snapped around, deep dark eyes found his, and Victor knew pain all over again, because he could see Yuuri’s face twist into a grimace of his own little hell. Yuuri’s despair called to him, a beacon of everything that was wrong with the world, and he thought Yuuri might drop to his knees then and there on the sidewalk, so close but still out of reach. All Victor wanted to do was catch him before he fell, Katsuki Yuuri on his knees like this wasn’t something he wanted to see, ever. 

The torture was over in a split second before Victor could expose himself though, because Yuuri was that good at composing himself, at turning his face into something unreadable in an instant, before Victor could blink Yuuri was already back to hiding everything underneath. He just gave a small shake of his head as he held Victor’s eyes from across the street, it screamed don’t do this, not here, not now, it was loud and clear enough for Victor to feel the sting of rejection and yet more doubts. 

So he watched as Yuuri spoke with his driver, listened to him speak Japanese in clipped tones of impatience and authority, he watched Yuuri’s eyes sharpen behind the lenses of his glasses as his driver finally gave up and conceded to whatever Yuuri was _telling_ him to do. The situation must have been worse than Victor thought for this to happen, it was only the grinding of his teeth that kept the growl inside his mouth. 

Eventually, Yuuri got into a car alone, leaving Suwabe and two other men on the sidewalk as the red tail lights lit up, as the headlights switched on, and then the black vehicle was pulling away from the curb, taking Yuuri away from him again.

It would be easy to kill Suwabe from here without Yuuri to potentially get caught in the crossfire, Victor didn’t care who else he hit, who else he had to get rid of just to kill one person. His gun was already in his hand, fingers curled around the grip as Suwabe stared after the car that he was no doubt meant to get into as well. 

His finger was on the trigger, ready when his phone went off in his pocket again, an urgent vibrate that demanded his attention amidst his murderous thoughts. This time, he knew who it was. 

The message from Yuuri’s number read:

07:02pm: _Meet at my apartment._

* * *

_To be continued in part 2_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	11. Interlude: Part Two - Standing On The Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cross your heart and hope to die. Promise me you'll never leave my side_ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the interlude will have three parts now, whoops.

Yuuri’s apartment was the same as he remembered, clean with sharp lines and sterile surfaces, tidy and empty of anything signs that someone actually _lived here_. Somehow he’d made it here first, ran up the outside stairs and along the walkway with key in one hand and his heart in the other, he’d let himself in, and now he was pacing in front of the door as he tried not to feel everything all at once.

He was shaking with all those ugly feelings, greed and lust and everything else that Yuuri probably hated, and he couldn’t push them down anymore. There was no where left for him to bottle them up, nothing to contain them, and he knew that this was the wrong kind of falling.

There was also steadily increasing desperation, panic and renewed fear because he didn’t know how this was going to go, he had no idea what was going to happen, and for once he was terrified of any surprises Yuuri might throw his way. Victor was a ticking bomb, and the moment Yuuri came through that door would be the moment he went off. 

So he paced for a few more minutes, everything building up even as he tried to calm down, the only warning he got that Yuuri was here was the shuffle of light footsteps behind the door, the sound of a key turning in a lock, the door handle turning. He moved on his own as Yuuri stepped in through the door, had it shut the moment Yuuri was inside, and then his insanity took over. 

It wasn’t quiet when he shoved Yuuri against the door, it wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t caring, yet Victor couldn’t bring himself to stop as he pressed their bodies close to attack the flawless skin of Yuuri’s throat. He couldn’t dare kiss him, couldn’t face him because Yuuri still might turn away from him, he might deny Victor right here and now after all these years. And so it was easier, safer for his heart and his soul for him to avoid that possibility all together. The only thing he could do was leave his mark, bite down and suck above the white collar of Yuuri’s shirt where everyone else would be able to see. 

“If I can’t stay close to you, then no one can.” the growl crawled up from his chest on its own, sunk into Yuuri’s skin with the teeth Victor was using, and it wasn’t what Victor wanted to say at all.

He wanted to ask if Yuuri was okay instead, he wanted to let Yuuri catch his bearings and breath so they could talk, Victor struggled with himself more than he ever had, logic and love fought instinct and pride, and the wrong side of himself was winning. 

His heart was beating in his ears, adrenaline and rage and possessive instincts, faster and faster as Yuuri sighed and buried his hands in Victor’s hair and held on tight, and it wasn’t to pull Victor away like he thought it would be, it was to keep Victor where he was, for Victor to keep going and not stop. It was only with his palm flat against Yuuri’s chest that he realised how fast Yuuri’s heart was beating, how wild and desperate that rhythm was too. But the fear never ebbed away because he still hadn’t heard Yuuri say anything, so that greed and possessiveness wasn’t going anywhere. 

The world was just on the other side of this door, the car and Yuuri’s driver were probably still parked up, maybe even waiting to keep an eye on Yuuri, and Victor didn’t care anymore. The man could come right up to the door and Victor wouldn’t stop for the world, because he _couldn’t_ stop for the world. And he knew this was bad, what he was doing, he knew it was even worse that Yuuri wasn’t doing anything to stop it, that he was welcoming it, because it felt like what last times felt like, like goodbyes and letting go even as every other part of you held on. 

And normally when you let things out, when you burst and boiled over, the reaction slowed, the fuel burnt out until it was all gone, until you could find yourself again. Yet Victor couldn’t see himself stopping, couldn’t find those things called calm and collected amidst his desperation and fear, because Yuuri wasn’t giving him _anything_ apart from the skin on his neck. There was no whisper of his name, no soft smile, no place for respite in his arms and no dropping of facades, all Victor could think was that this was Yuuri’s last offering to him. 

And Victor understood now, that it wouldn't be fighting the world that was the hard part, it would be fighting Yuuri that would destroy him. 

It was nauseating how Yuuri’s pulse against his tongue matched his own, how Victor knew that Yuuri was hurting just as much and panicking just the same because of the way he was _trembling_. It was maddening because this was meant to be the part where Yuuri let Victor in, and the fact that he wasn’t made Victor _angry_ because there was no way he would let this all be for nothing. Victor started off with nothing, and if Yuuri walked away now he’d be left with even less. 

He’d never been this rough with Yuuri before, never this set on his own feelings instead of Yuuri’s, and so he kept nipping, sucking, _hurting_ , kept dragging his teeth along the stretch of skin that was meant for his lips only, leaving as many marks as he could and wishing they would never go away. 

Yuuri’s remained tense against his onslaught, unyielding and foreign to Victor’s touch as a place called home fell from his reach, because Yuuri was pulling him away then, his grip unforgivingly tight, _strong_ , because if Yuuri was anything that’s what he was. 

This was how wrapped around Yuuri’s finger he was, so caught up in Yuuri that Victor would let him do this, let Yuuri lead him by the hair and push him away so that in the end they were standing there at the door, further apart than they ever had been before. 

That expressionless face stared right back at him, impenetrable eyes and grim set mouth, the face that Yuuri was meant to show everyone else. Yuuri’s neck was a ruin of blossoming purple on one side, still wet with the angry red teeth marks that Victor knew must still be stinging now, and Yuuri gave no sign that he even _felt_ it, that he felt anything at all. It only served to add salt to Victor’s wounds, heat to his anger, sharpen the edge to his jealously and obsession and everything that wasn’t healthy.

“Yuuri.” Victor drawled, and it sickened even him how dead he sounded, how flat and hollow his words echoed as they rang out. “Have you really had enough?” 

For the first time since they’d met, from strangers to lovers but _never_ enemies, the air was hostile between them. The room was cold, the lights dim and unwelcoming. It was all so different to the last time he stood here, when Yuuri gave him the key to the door they stood next to, it was hard to think that back then Victor thought the Chung incident would be the worst thing they could go through.

Yuuri was all business, professional and merciless as he pushed himself off the door and kicked his shoes off, silent as he let the temperature plummet to leave Victor frozen. 

There was no pushing Yuuri like this, Victor knew well enough how fast Yuuri could snap, how fast he could have his knife buried hilt deep in his neck, how fast he could have the barrel of his gun set between his eyes. Yuuri knew too, how fast Victor could do the same, he knew what happened when Victor lost his temper, and yet here he was pushing him over the edge because most of all Yuuri knew that Victor would never truly hurt him, even now. 

So he watched as Yuuri pulled the knot of his tie with a hooked finger, watched him take off his jacket and set it in the hook by the door, he watched as Yuuri did all the things that Victor was meant to do, take off his cufflinks, his guns and holsters. Yuuri did it all with a stern face, because he wasn’t truly taking any layers off at all this time.

Victor couldn’t tell what he was thinking, couldn’t even begin to guess what he might say, what might happen, if he hadn’t been touching him before he wouldn’t have known how he’d trembled, how his hard his heart thumped.

Yuuri finally turned to him, unarmed and as physically vulnerable as he’d ever be, equipped with nothing but the walls he’d put up as he answered Victor as last.

“You know that could never be true.” and those words should soothe him, relieve the pain in Victor’s chest, and yet they did anything but. They only wound Victor up further because those words were empty, Yuuri could have been saying them at a business exchange and they would have meant more.

“Then what are you doing?” Victor grit out, because now he was more confused than ever. The worst thing was that you had to be careful with Yuuri when he was like this, he was already a man of few words, and whenever he did say something he meant it. 

And Yuuri didn’t even flinch, unrelenting as only he could be as he sighed this half assed thing like what he was doing should be obvious.

“This was inevitable from the start, Victor.” was all he said, this echo of all Victor’s biggest fears, all the truths which hurt that Victor didn’t want to hear. 

“Is that what you really think?” Victor’s own mask had long since fallen, his voice was rising, growling because he couldn’t fucking believe that Yuuri would give up without a fight after everything they’d been through. 

And he was advancing on Yuuri again, grabbing him by the shoulders as Yuuri stood lifeless, so far from the person he knew behind closed doors when it was just the two of them and so much closer to the stranger he used to wonder about when he was younger. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me, Yuuri.” and he was nearly shouting now, his voice a hot threat on a knife’s edge, here at this place of self destruction. Just like before back in his office, he was shaking uncontrollably, and that’s how much control Yuuri had over him, the fact that Victor couldn’t even stop his own body from quaking. 

No matter how much he looked, how hard he searched in those stone cold brown eyes, Victor couldn’t see his Yuuri anywhere in sight, wherever he was he’d buried himself deep into a place that even Victor couldn’t reach. And he’d thought that all this time Yuuri didn’t have anything inside him left that wasn’t Victor’s too, but it looked like he wasn’t always right after all. 

He was looking at Yuuri, but he couldn’t _see_ Yuuri as they looked each other in the eye like Victor wanted, and suddenly as Yuuri took a breath Victor didn’t want it at all.

“You know it’s true.” Yuuri drawled, the epitome of impassive and all that Victor knew Yuuri fucking hated, and just like that Victor Nikiforov reached breaking point all over again. The only time he ever did was when it came to Yuuri, and now, it was _at_ Yuuri.

“Take your mask off when you speak to me!!” Victor’s voice _boomed_ in the sterile space of Yuuri’s apartment as he tightened his grip on Yuuri’s shoulders, as he dug his fingers in to look for the real Yuuri himself. “Don’t you dare play your fucking game of Masquerade with me, Yuuri!” 

And even as he yelled, Katsuki Yuuri crumbled bit by bit in front of his very eyes, his hard exterior fell away in pieces, mouth quivering, eyes watering, browns pinching in nothing but pain as his expression _finally_ cracked. Then Yuuri was snapping in turn, shoving him as he lashed out to push Victor away further. 

“You know it’s true, Victor! There’s always going to be something and we both know it!” each word was a slap in the face as Yuuri stood in front of him, his tone laced with anguish and heartbreak as he lost composure for one of the first times that Victor had ever seen. 

But it was too late now, any other time Victor would have gone to him, he would have tried to protect him from the thoughts inside his head, now, all he wanted to do was _yell_.

“How can you say that when you didn’t even try!” every word was manic, he could hear his own voice cracking as things inside him began to break. He couldn’t bear the thought of ruining things inside Yuuri’s apartment as he’d done to his office, couldn’t bear the thought of Yuuri seeing him like that because it would only tear them further apart.

“You think I didn’t!? You think that for weeks and weeks I wasn’t trying to find a way to get out of this?” and he’d never heard Yuuri raise his voice, never heard him bite back with this much venom, something so _bitter_ as he stopped to look at Victor again. “And then I realised it’s not going to stop, Victor, something like this is going to happen again and again, no matter what we do or where we go.”

“You don’t know that!” Victor barked back, hands gesturing wide because all he wanted to do was make Yuuri see that none of it fucking mattered. 

“I do know it! I _tried_ ,Victor, everything within my power that wouldn’t get me killed!” Yuuri was steadfast on the spot, feet planted as firm as his mind was made up, and Victor wasn’t going to have any of it. Not when this was his reason. 

“That’s bullshit! I didn’t hear a word from you about this, everything within your power?! _I’m_ within your power, or is it that easy for you to forget me?” he could see the tears on Yuuri’s face, the red around his eyes and the agony every word he said inflicted, and even as Victor’s heart wanted to reach out all his head wanted to do was rage.

“You think I could forget you that easy?” Yuuri _snarled_ , insulted like his feelings for Victor were something so menial that he could forget Victor of all things. “Don’t belittle my feelings for you!”

“Then why?!” he was stalking close behind Yuuri as they made their way further into the apartment to try and contain themselves, because both of them knew that truly erupting here and now would be the worst thing that could happen between them, the day they came to blows would be the day it was time to walk away.

“Because I can’t see a way out for us!” Yuuri was shouting at the top of his lungs now, crying as he did so, his tears unending as they both broke apart when they should be helping to fix this, fix each other.

“That’s stupid and you know it. How can you say that now? Yuuri, you can’t nearly _die_ for me and then leave me! I’d rather you let the bullets hit me instead." They were in his bedroom now, lights flickered on and did nothing to change the increasingly dark mood overwhelming the space between all four walls. 

"I had the vest on!" and then Yuuri was rounding on him, getting in his face and throwing the full weight of his distress in Victor’s eyes. They shouldn’t be fighting like this was all Victor could think, it felt _wrong_ , like the earth was turning backwards and the moon was crashing into the sea, some sort of apocalyptic horror that said the world was coming to an end and there was nothing anyone could to do stop it. 

"And you still could have fucking died, you don't offer your life to save someone and then walk away for less!” and there was also nothing stopping Victor from shouting back, from voicing the images that plagued his sleep whenever he thought about that day too much, whenever he thought about losing Yuuri at all.

All he got was a soul wrecking sob in return, they both knew Victor was right. There was already no turning back, even if there wasn’t a way out. So Victor could only choke on the lump in his throat as Yuuri pulled at his own hair and turned his back again. It was too quiet now without the constant yelling, this suffocating void that left Victor shellshocked as Yuuri sat on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands. 

"It's not stupid, Victor." came the flat and so _weak_ argument, and he hated seeing Yuuri like this, he hated himself because he was the one who’d made him this way. One more thing on his list of things that he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for. 

"And why am I meant to believe that? Why is it not stupid, give me one good reason for all this?" he was blinking away the sting in his eyes now, voice rough, strained as he approached Yuuri again to stand in front of him, wanting nothing but for Yuuri to look up in his direction instead of hanging his head. 

"Because I'm not strong enough, Victor.” Yuuri’s voice was full of shame and self doubt as he spoke to the floor, there was no hope for the weak, and all Victor’s hot rage and burning fears fled as Yuuri’s words hit him, because it meant that Yuuri truly thought they couldn’t do it. It meant that Yuuri thought he was weak, and that was something he’d never thought to hear Katsuki Yuuri say out loud.

“If you’re not strong enough then what does that make me, Yuuri?” Victor deadpanned, he didn’t even care for an answer, didn’t want to know how useless Yuuri thought this really was. 

Instead Yuuri’s head snapped up, eyes wide and red, nose pink, hair a mess, he looked like the picture of hopelessness, and Victor would give everything to save him.

“Don’t say that.” and why was Yuuri the one pleading, reaching out with his eyes the way he did, soft and brown and _gentle_ even when Victor wasn’t. “I meant I’m not strong enough to drag you down with me.” 

And _oh_ , just when Victor thought he couldn’t feel more for Katsuki Yuuri than he already did, just when he thought he couldn’t be surprised or given more than he already deserved, Yuuri went and proved him wrong. He’d been thinking about Victor all this time. 

Victor felt the ground fall from beneath his feet all over again, felt this overwhelming rush of giddiness and something that he’d call absolution take him, and he couldn’t help but smile even amidst all this ruin.

“So you can be stupid sometimes.” and Victor was kneeling before Yuuri now, taking that flushed face in his hands, thumbing the tears away, doing everything he should have done before they let themselves get to this point. “The whole point is, Yuuri, that the two of us are strong enough together.”

He heard the breath leave Yuuri in a rush, watched Yuuri hold himself still as he tried not to break down all over again, and this time Victor was there to pull him together. He stood to push Yuuri back onto the bed, to lie down next to him and pull the lithe frame on top of his and wrap his arms around tight. He kissed the top of Yuuri’s head over and over, hummed the song that came to him automatically whenever Yuuri was near. He thought about how ridiculous this was as he cradled Yuuri’s body with his, Victor was meant to be the one who was broken, and here was was trying to save someone else. 

And Yuuri was trembling even now, wrung out and tired, hiding his face against Victor’s chest, and he was also holding onto to Victor for dear life, arms around his chest, tucked underneath his back against the bed with fingers locked together like he’d never let go. And once again Victor thought that if he were a religious man right now that he’d be thanking god for the person in his arms, because if he tried to thank Yuuri for all that he’d done, he’d only say it was nothing, when really it was everything.

“Shhh, don’t cry, Yuuri.” Victor whispered as the ceiling above him blurred with tears of his own, they pooled in the corners of his eyes and then swelled over to run down over his temples. He was only glad that right now Yuuri couldn’t see him crying too, because Yuuri would only hurt more, he’d only take more of it on himself and feel guilty everything, and Victor would protect him even from that. 

They let themselves settle after the chaos of their first falling out, listened to the beat of each other’s hearts as they finally managed to slow into a pace of relative calm, and still he kept peppering kisses into Yuuri’s soft hair, feeling the weight of Yuuri’s body that was a few pounds lighter because he probably hadn’t been eating right too. 

“Yuuri,” Victor mumbled against Yuuri’s head after a while. “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

Yuuri squeezed him then, nuzzled into his shirt to hide from the delicate topic, because he wasn’t good at _talking_ about things like this, he was good at showing Victor instead. 

“Because…. I don’t want to be a burden to you.” 

And it would have been cute if it weren’t for the words Yuuri was saying, it was only heartbreaking instead, because if only Yuuri knew that it was the other way around. 

“I would do anything for you, Yuuri.” he rubbed circles against Yuuri’s back to comfort him as he whispered his own truth, there was no such thing as a burden if it meant he could have moments like this where the world was turning the right way and the moon was just a wonder in the sky. 

“I know, that’s why I didn’t ask.” Yuuri sighed, back to that place of Yuuri trying to handle everything on his own for Victor’s sake.

“Yuuuri.” Victor couldn’t help but pout at how stubborn Yuuri was, pressing his nose into Yuuri’s head to nudge him out of his silly thoughts. “What sort of relationship are we in if you can’t ask me for help?”

“I… don’t know.” Yuuri stammered, unprepared for the straight forward question about what they were, Yuuri tensed against him and pressed his forehead into the centre of Victor’s chest as he trailed off into silence. 

“We’re partners, just so you do know.” Victor chuckled into his hair, loving the way Yuuri shivered at the heat of his breath and the warmth of his words. “Boyfriends, lovers, sweethearts, soulma-“

“- I know that.” Yuuri bristled as he raised himself up onto his elbows to look at Victor and cut him off, and all Victor could think was how gorgeous he was, Yuuri’s true face on display, “I know that.”

“And you still want to end this all the same?” Victor held his breath as he looked back at Yuuri, wanting to make sure of this one thing above all others because there was that part inside him that would always fear this. 

“Never.” the reply was instant, full of conviction and certainty that Victor knew was real this time, and it was also one of the best things about Yuuri, the fact that his few words could change everything. 

“Mmm, that’s better.” Victor hummed as he relaxed at last, willing the bone deep tension to leave him, because if that was Yuuri’s answer then none of the rest mattered. It was pulling Yuuri back down then, running his fingers up and down his spine atop his shirt and letting those ugly feelings shrink back away into darkness.

He knew this peace was only temporary, but he’d take anything he could get. Their problems were far from being solved, he knew they'd probably fight again, doubt again and hurt again, and it was something he didn’t want to think about right at that moment, because there was still the very real chance that this could go more wrong than what it already had. 

“Victor?” Yuuri asked aloud after a while, vague and drowsy in his relaxation.

“Hm?” Victor let him know that he was listening, too content to open is mouth and say something properly. 

“... l need your help.” Yuuri eventually said, and there he was again, catching Victor off guard and setting butterflies free in his ribcage that tickled in all the right places. Victor laughed, tried not to think about the trial to come, and he clutched Yuuri tighter against his chest. 

“Leave it to me.” 

They both knew it wasn't as simple as that. It would be the biggest challenge Victor would ever face in his life, toppling a family just was strong as Yuuri's without making it obvious the mafia was involved. That would only incite flames too soon, and Victor wasn't ready to burn yet.

* * *

They’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other on top of the covers, only to wake up in the middle of the night to undress and settle into bed properly. Yuuri was like this pacifist to all his nightmares, so he slept as sound as a man with no conscience as he kept Yuuri’s fingers twined in his. 

He woke with Yuuri pressed close against his side as Victor slept on his back, Yuuri’s long leg thrown over his hips, arm across his chest, Yuuri’s head on Victor’s pillow instead of his own, and every time he woke up in the same bed as Yuuri he always thought that this was what happily ever after must feel like. 

He’d never forget the very _first_ morning he woke up next to Yuuri, feeling the warmth of someone else in the same bed, his smooth skin and the hard muscles underneath pressed against him, he’d never forget thinking that this is what his entire life before now had been missing. Someone that he _wanted_ to stay close to.

Before that first night it’d been half a year of meeting at a hotel for a few hours to talk in privacy, inching closer on the lounger in the living area while the bedroom and bed were left unused. The intimacy and heat even back then had been stifling, the kisses as Victor gave into the urge to taste him, the delight when it was Yuuri who kissed him first, the tightening of his groin as things spiralled faster than either of them could control. 

Back then it’d been grinding together with suits and holsters still on, Yuuri used to straddle his lap like that, gasping and moaning as they undid each others pants in a clumsy rush to get off before they parted ways for the night. It was still just as exhilarating now as it was then, even more so. 

But it was that first overnight rendezvous together that was also the first time he saw Yuuri completely bare, the first time he saw Yuuri’s tattoos in the flesh. Of course he’d received the information that Yuuri’s entire back, ass and arms were covered, he’d made up pictures in his own head, but nothing he could’ve conjured in his mind had lived up to the real thing.

It’d taken him months and _months_ to coax Yuuri out of his shirt, out of his clothes so they could fuck skin on skin in a bed for the first time, they both wanted it, both needed it at that point because it was clear neither of them could get enough. It wasn’t that Yuuri was insecure or shy about his body, he was confident and sure of the way he moved, the way carried himself, the only time Yuuri would be ashamed of his body was when it couldn’t do what he asked of it, fight, kill, win. 

No, it was the fact that those tattoos would be like rubbing the history between their families right in Victor’s face. 

Victor had braced himself for it, he’d given Yuuri all the control and power to make him feel comfortable and safe, and he’d held his breath as Yuuri knelt on top of him on that soft hotel bed. Yuuri had been all blush and uncertainty as he pulled the button down shirt off his shoulders after Victor convinced him it was okay. In true Yuuri style, it was always one surprise after another, because he’d never expected those tattoos to light such a strong fire inside him from the very first day he saw them. 

He'd been speechless, lost for words and any reaction at all as his eyes roamed over the colours and patterns, the peonies and gods on Yuuri’s arms, and then he’d moved all on his own before Yuuri could regret showing him his true skin. 

He remembered pulling Yuuri down and showering kisses up his arms all the way to his chest, he remembered how is own hands _shook_ and trembled because he’d been nervous of all things, nervous because Katsuki Yuuri had been trusting enough to let him see it all. He’d begged Yuuri to turn around then, whispered to him how much he wanted to see it, and Yuuri had just bit at his bottom lip before giving him a silent show of the glaring red dragon that wound its way up the length of his beautifully defined back.

Victor had been obsessed with those tattoos ever since.

One of his favourite things was looking at the difference in their skin as Yuuri draped across him now, Victor’s plain flesh the perfect backdrop to highlight all the colours on Yuuri’s body. It was like this that Victor thought they complimented each other perfectly. Yuuri had this way of fitting against Victor just right, his back the perfect width for Victor’s chest to protect, his waist and hips the perfect height for his hands to hold, his shoulder the perfect place for Victor to rest his chin on. On the other hand Yuuri hardly needed protection, it was definitely terrifying thinking about someone so beautiful as Yuuri being so deadly, because even with his slight frame he was still incredibly strong, the cutest, most colourful package with murder, strength and Victor’s heart wrapped inside.

So he basked in the view of his sleeping beauty snoozing half next to and half on top of him, listened to his deep breaths and wondered at the length of his eyelashes as they fluttered in his dreams. Yuuri’s hair had gotten longer in the past few months, it was shaggy from sleep, feathered on the pillow and across his face, and it was too tempting not to reach out and touch because he knew Yuuri would probably cut it soon, he had appearances to keep up after all.

It was soothing in its own way, the feel of soft strands between his fingers, the midnight colour that shone even with only the morning light trying to creep in around the edges of the curtains. Yuuri would kill him if he took a photo right now, it would be his phone lock screen, his wallpaper and something he looked at constantly if he was allowed. Even with his passcode that was Yuuri’s birthday it was still too risky. So he always had to settle for trying to imprint it into his memory instead, but memories would never do Yuuri justice either.

He couldn’t however, bring himself to stop playing with Yuuri’s hair or his face, running his fingers along the shell of his ear, down his cheek, along his jaw. It was as his thumb got to Yuuri’s lips that he woke up, that his eyes snapped open with pin point clarity and alertness for a split second before he realised it was Victor in front of him. 

Yuuri was nearly too much like this, because he just mumbled with a grumpy pout, some unintelligible thing in Japanese probably about being woken up, his cheeks blushing pink before he rolled face first into the pillow to hide the smile on his face because in truth he liked waking up to Victor just as much. 

“You’re way too cute, Yuuri.” Victor found himself saying without thinking, the words rolled off his tongue like they were speaking themselves, because teasing Yuuri was way too much fun, “It’s a weapon in itself you know.” 

And Yuuri _laughed_ into the pillow before he showed his face again, gasping for air, his eyes scrunched with mirth, smile bright, and Victor lost count of all the things he’d do to make Yuuri laugh like that again. 

“Lucky I only use it on you.” Yuuri teased back knowing full well it would stir Victor up. 

“If you use it on anyone else I’ll kill them.” Victor shot back automatically, feeling himself bristle with possessiveness before he could even stop himself, body rigid at the mere thought of it. 

And there it was again, all it took was a few words for Victor’s unsightly side to show itself, and yet he didn’t even have time to worry about it, question whether it was too soon or too much before such a big fight, because Yuuri laughed again.

“I know, that’s the point.” 

Those words made him realise all over again how amazing Yuuri was, how lucky Victor was to have Katsuki Yuuri all to himself, because only Yuuri was capable of making him this way, and it was only Yuuri who would accept him this way too.

* * *

Their respite was over all too soon, because Yuuri had to get up and go before people decided to come and fetch him instead. He’d only managed to come back to his apartment for a night because he’d pulled rank on his driver and everyone around him, because everyone at least knew how much Yuuri loved his own pace. So he’d snapped at his driver apparently, said he was sick of all these useless underlings surrounding him and demanded to be taken home so he could get some peace and quiet. Victor almost felt sorry for Yuuri’s driver, being on the receiving end of Yuuri’s ire wasn’t pleasant. 

Who knows what would have happened if Yuuri hadn’t managed to come however, Victor would have undoubtably done something irreversibly stupid, irrational and selfish, and he could breathe a little easier knowing it hadn’t come to that. 

It was only slight, their relief, the weight of tension heavy on their shoulders once more as they stood at the door to say goodbye, Yuuri dressed in all his layers with a scarf draped about his neck, and Victor, still half dressed in just his shirt and slacks.

There was this thick space between them now that hadn’t been there before, a mix of worry and fear, the lingering scent of their indiscretions and doubts. It was like the moment they’d set foot outside of Yuuri’s bedroom, away from the safety and peace of each others arms, it’d all just come rushing back in a flood, the echo’s of their argument Victor could hear in his ears, in his heart, all the things Yuuri said that Victor was most afraid of. The truth hurt, Victor always knew, but it was denial that would kill you, yet the only thing he could never accept was that they were doomed from the start. He’d deny it until his last breath, until it killed him. 

For all the things that Victor was good at, saying goodbye wasn’t one of them, this time especially. So he stood there craning his neck down to press his forehead to Yuuri’s, his hands on Yuuri’s hips, and it would be so easy to wrap his arms around him again and keep him here. Every single time they said goodbye it was always like this, like tearing apart of himself off and sending it away with Yuuri for safe keeping. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Victor whispered as he shut his eyes to enjoy these last few moments, because no matter how often he said these exact lines to Yuuri, he always left anyway, and that was because Yuuri was stronger than him.

Gentle hands cupped his cheeks, a whisper soft touch that Victor couldn’t help but lean into because he wanted to fall this way instead, this right kind of falling with Yuuri by his side instead of into madness. 

“I really have to go, Victor.” Yuuri was all heartfelt sigh and foretold regret, and Victor opened his eyes to find Yuuri looking right back at him with a vow in his gaze that made him feel only slightly better. 

“I know.” Victor couldn’t come up with anything else to say, already on edge so close to the outside world on the other side of the door, so he stepped back and took one last took at Yuuri standing in front of him, perfect from head to toe apart from the unsightly purple bruises on his neck, the teeth marks and signs of Victor’s lack of control, all still exposed until Yuuri wrapped the scarf around his neck. 

Victor took his time to reach out and touch it, to feel the raised skin where he’d bitten too hard, to engrain it into his fingertips and remember the feeling of his mark atop Yuuri’s pulse, because it would probably be the last thing he’d truly feel for a while. 

“Sorry.” Victor sighed as he realised how much trouble his impulsive action was going to make for Yuuri. 

“I should be the one saying that.” but Yuuri hummed and shrugged it off, placed his hand atop the one Victor had on his wrist as they hung on the moment before parting, this drawn out agony and heartache. 

“It’s going to be even harder for you now until it fades.” and Victor couldn’t help but say it out loud as he kept looking at it, lost in the angry colours on the column of Yuuri’s throat. 

And all Yuuri did was give him a faint smile as he leant further into Victor’s touch, “It’s okay, people think I’m frivolous enough for disappearing for a night when I’m meeting you, they’ll think I was blowing off steam. Plus… I don’t really want it to fade.” 

Victor’s stomach somersaulted and twisted, his heart stuttered and it wasn’t _fair_ for Yuuri to say that now, it wasn’t fair for him to say that when Victor was absolutely sure he wanted it more. Something of himself permanently etched on Yuuri’s body, they were both obsessed with it, marking each other from the inside out, because when you apart from each other that was the only true reminder that what they had was real.

“Yuuri, you can’t say that now.” and Victor had never really whined in his life until he met Yuuri, but that’s exactly what he was doing now, pouting as Yuuri closed in for their one too many last kisses.

He didn’t know if Yuuri ever did it on purpose, but he always had this way of distracting Victor just right, taking his mind off the biggest hurt with a smile or a word to make saying goodbye that much more bearable. So Yuuri was smiling against his lips as he kissed him, smiling even as he tried to hide the agony in his eyes, and Victor wondered how many times he was going to be scared of letting him go like this. 

Yuuri was so gentle compared to how Victor was with him last night, forgiving and accepting and soft, if anyone saw them now no one would ever believe what they did for a living. 

It was just a small press of the lips, their only kiss since they’d met in Yuuri’s apartment, it was hesitant and lukewarm, but it was more than enough for Victor considering the scale of their fight. It was over all too soon however, because Yuuri stepped back then and put on his bravest face as he brushed Victor’s hair out of his face. 

“See you soon, Victor.” Yuuri promised. 

It wouldn’t be soon, it would be months if not longer of minimal texting and no contact at all, it would be worse than before and then some. Soon was a shallow lie to make themselves both feel better. It might be never if this went wrong, promises were useless, but right now promises were the only thing they had. Victor felt about as useless as that promise as he stood there and watched Yuuri wind the scarf around his neck, as he watched Yuuri turn his back and open the door to leave him.

He’d memorised the lines of Yuuri’s frame, the cut of his suit and the angle of his shoulders just from the amount that he was forced to watch Yuuri walk away from him, it felt like sand slipping between his fingers every single time, and then Yuuri was gone, and nothing would be soon enough. 

If there was one time Yuuri wouldn’t be able come back to him, this would be it, and Victor had never been more terrified of anything in his entire life, because for all that Victor made it sound easy when he told Yuuri to leave it to him, it wasn’t. 

“Soon.” Victor echoed.

* * *

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	12. Interlude: Part Three - Standing On The Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hold me close, don't let go, watch me burn._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief content warning: minor mentions of suicide, graphic depictions of violence. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also typo warning. I'm not a pro, I do this for fun, it's not going to be perfect.

Victor stayed in Yuuri’s apartment for one more day to gather himself, to calm down and let his blood cool properly before he even thought about tackling the mammoth task of ruining the Suwabe family so that the Katsuki’s would call it off. He’d need a clear head and all the logic his brain possessed for this, it was going to take time, _months_ as well as millions of dollars and every single debt everyone owed him. 

It was going to take subtlety and sleight of hand, and they were Yuuri’s specialties, not his. If Victor had a problem, he simply killed it or brandished his name with a flash of his temper and then it was solved. 

He couldn’t do that with this, couldn’t just kill that lesser man who thought Yuuri was so easy to gain. It was too obvious, blatant murder would only lead to questions too soon, and when it had to do with the Katsukis, someone was bound to come up with an answer that was ‘Nikiforov.’  
Another answer could be Yuuri being suspected of foul play, of trying to worm his way out of the arrangement in the most underhanded way, he’d be labelled a traitor to the family, punished, and that was the only thing Victor couldn’t _bear_ to think of happening. Because what Yuuri would be made to do if that came to pass made Victor feel sick, and not many things on this earth made him so uncomfortable that he couldn’t even bring himself to conjure the mental image.  
Yuuri would be made to kneel in front of the entire family and sever his own finger with his own knife, ruin his hands that made Victor feel like there was a place called heaven for someone as damned as him. The family might even go so far as to have his back lashed so that those beautiful tattoos would be ruined forever more, his status ruined, but they’d never let someone like Yuuri go, he was too good, too dangerous, he had too many secrets to share, and even a man like Katsuki Toshiya wouldn’t kill his own son.  
It _hurt_ , because Victor knew that if any of those things came to pass he wouldn’t get there in time, and Yuuri would take it like only he could, with a cold expression no matter how much pain he was in, and in the end it would be Victor who was left screaming on behalf because he’d failed.

So as much as Victor loathed it with every beat of his heart, they both agreed that it was smarter for Yuuri to play along, to act better than he ever had before and pretend like pairing up with Suwabe Ryu was something he _wanted_ more than anyone else. 

Victor had no doubt Yuuri could pull it off, he had no doubt Yuuri could bury his true self in deep and convince everyone. Yuuri would hate every waking moment of it, he’d hate every breath under that mask, but Victor knew Yuuri would suffocate before he let anyone pick apart his facade. When Yuuri played the game only he was a master of then no one else stood a chance, that’s what made him so downright monstrous. It would take Yuuri out of suspicion, wrap Suwabe around his finger so Yuuri could lead him blind into the fire, and even as Victor _despised_ it, he wanted Yuuri safe more than his own hatred wanted to just explode with violence.

So Victor was going to have to pull the foundations of the Suwabe family out from under their feet without anyone knowing his involvement, because the moment Victor’s name popped up would be the moment it all backfired and was seen as some plot to stop the Katsuki’s from getting stronger. The frigid truce between their families would be over, and a war just like 23 years ago would erupt anew. Yuuri would be in between a rock and a hard place then, forced to make a choice when he wasn’t ready, and that wasn’t something Victor wanted to put Yuuri through. Not yet. Victor was still far too afraid of what Yuuri might choose. 

He was going to have to be careful not to touch anything connected to the Katsuki’s at all, he didn’t give two shits how strong the Katsuki family became, they could become bigger, better, stronger for all Victor cared, the most powerful family on the planet. None of that mattered as long as he had Yuuri, as long as he stopped this farce and had Yuuri all to himself. 

Meeting Yuuri had taught Victor so many things about himself he’d never known. Until that day in that dark street when he was 23 years old, the day they met, Victor never thought of himself as greedy or selfish, as possessive or jealous, and yet here he was now, the living embodiment of it all. 

And most of all, he’d never thought of himself as _selfless_ , until Yuuri. He was at that point where he knew he’d do anything, he’d drive himself and his whole organisation into the abyss if he had to. He’d raze it all to the ground with the tempest of his own feelings, he’d be delicate and sly in a way he’d never been, he’d be _careful_ , because anything with Yuuri involved was worth all the care in the world, and until it was done, Victor wouldn’t stop caring for one single second. 

He managed to sleep soundly in Yuuri’s bed for that one night, in Yuuri’s house with Yuuri’s things surrounding him, with Yuuri but not, before he went back to Russia to tell Yakov what he was going to do with a carefully blank face. Yakov couldn’t say a thing, couldn’t argue or tell him to do things differently, even though Yakov was still technically head of the mafia, it was only because Victor refused to take full control. He didn’t want it, he didn’t need it something as troublesome as that, because taking over meant it would only make it more difficult to see Yuuri, harder to really be with him, and so to Victor it wasn’t even an option. 

* * *

Over the next week of stockpiling money from different offshore accounts, of financial reports and minimal word from Yuuri but plenty of news _about_ Yuuri, Victor all but isolated himself from his men, his organisation and anyone who wouldn’t be of use to him. 

Of course there were questions, rumours and whispers that Victor Nikiforov had lost his mind when he went AWOL for a few days, only Yakov and a handful more knew where he’d been, Mila, Georgie, Lillia, Chris, and of course Otabek. Victor let them talk, the more they thought he was crazy the better, the more they knew not to piss him off or get in his way and that was just as well, because Yuuri had managed to send him a short message to say a date for all the mergers and sharing of cups had been set. And it all became true, he’d never known a feeling like this in his life, Victor _was_ crazy. Every single day he felt like he might lose his mind. 

It was all set for three months time and that wasn’t _long_ enough to pull off a years worth of work, of unraveling major corporations and business at the seams, yet at the same time it was an age, and eternity and a breath, because it meant he wouldn’t _see_ Yuuri for that long, if he ever saw him again at all. 

Oh, he’d seen him in the reports and information he’d received, and he hated every fucking frame, because Yuuri had someone else by his side in every one of them. Seeing photo after photo of Yuuri with Suwabe helped concoct something volatile within him, and once again it all built up one notch of violent pressure at a time as everything else inside just _ceased._

And still the hardest thing of all this, was every word Yuuri said that night that echoed back to him like some ghost who lived to haunt only him, _’There’s always going to be something and we both know it.’_  
He couldn’t shake it, the images from that fight, the look of conflicted anguish on Yuuri’s face that Victor couldn’t save him from, the look of Katsuki Yuuri, the strongest person Victor knew, breaking down in front of him because he truely thought that this was hopeless. 

Victor thought about that day when Yuuri took those bullets for him, the picture so vivid in his memory, Yuuri gasping on the ground, hands pressed to the bulletproof vest under his suit, he thought then that Yuuri was his for life, just like he’d been Yuuri’s from the start. Now there was this question mark blinking at him, terrifying him like nothing before, because if Yuuri had tried to walk away once, what was to stop him from doing it again. The pain of needing someone more than they needed you was paralysing. He found himself thinking about it when he needed to be focusing, in bed alone at night, on his way to the office in his car, in the shower with visions of Yuuri’s naked back beneath him. Victor clung to him even in his thoughts, and he could only hope that Yuuri was doing the same wherever he was. 

The one thing that kept him going was that one small sentence that Victor would die for. _’I need your help.’_

Never in his life had he pushed himself this hard before, had he used other people and discarded them with this much ruthlessness, he knew what he was doing was a monster’s work, Victor was willing to become much worse than that in order to have what he wanted. 

In that first month, Victor managed to sink three major empires that had supporting connections to the Suwabe’s, the first corner stone smashed into unfixable pieces. He manipulated stocks, he crashed companies connected to his own in order to bring others down, blackmailed anyone who he could dig dirt on with anonymous messages and threats. He ruined lives and families, cost hundreds of people their jobs, and if people wouldn’t cave, he simply sent Otabek to Japan to do the dirty work of intimidation or kill people in their beds. 

Otabek was a good friend, the only person he’d trust if push came to shove, he did what Victor paid him to and didn’t ask questions, and even though Victor knew Otabek _would_ get the job done, it was still painfully frustrating not being able to kill something himself. It was sitting behind his desk waiting for news or confirmation, it was sleepless night after sleepless night thinking of the next step he would take. It was _waiting_ , too much waiting to see if things were burning the way he planned until it was finally his turn to let his own control go and snap. 

The first company’s collapse, an accounting firm that did payroll for the Suwabe Pharmaceutical company, brought him no relief, it didn’t make a dent in the Suwabe family’s holdings or business, but it did make it harder for it all to function like clock work. The second and third company were exactly the same, supporting companies sunk or brought out by people that owed Victor something. 

He knew by then the Suwabe’s would be onto something, but as long as they never caught onto who, Victor would keep going, as long as the Katsuki’s themselves didn’t step in, Victor would keep going. He’d attack from all directions with every resource he could, he would fucking destroy the Suwabe family in every shape and form, on paper, in the eyes of society, the eyes of the underworld and lastly, in the eyes of the Katsuki’s. 

* * *

Nearly two months in and so many of his offshore accounts emptied all the way to zero, half way to bankrupt himself, weary and always on the edge of chaos, near two months of white clenched knuckles, barely contained rage and meticulous plotting, Victor had his first break through. The euphoric high he got from it was a drug of its own, amplified in his sleep deprived exhaustion. The most satisfying thing was seeing the Suwabe family stocks fall, all because companies associated with them had been falling one by one, this unseen plague that was Victor Nikiforov kept spreading, and even though it was obvious by now that _someone_ was out for them, it was too late to stop the beautiful domino effect. 

There was news of a CEO found dead with a hole in his head and gun still in hand, talk of a district attorney Victor all but _ruined_ by the exposure of his corruption one leaked bit of information at a time, he was found cold with an empty pill bottle by his bedside. There were husbands and wives found lifeless together after having everything taken from them, their teenage children lost in an accident, or their lives ruined by smearing their name into the mud and soiling everything they’d built. Lives winked out one by one, all cowards escaping financial ruin and bankruptcy, heartbreak or societal disdain, and all connected to the Suwabe family. 

The thing was, that it was so simple to destroy someone when you didn’t _want_ anything from them in return but their ruin, there was no bartering, negotiating or warning, he didn’t want the money or power people like them would offer in return for silence or peace, and so no one ever saw it coming. 

Yet it wasn’t enough, because even as the Suwabe’s scrambled to save their own ass, as the Katuski’s stood aside to see how a family they were going to join with would handle a problem like this, it still wasn’t called off. 

He’d lost it more than once in his office by that point, because he was too _eager_ to get out there and spill blood with his own hands, he’d been waiting for this point, biding his time and making himself look at Yuuri in those reports, closer to Suwabe’s side the more time went by. And Yuuri’s acting was _too_ good, too convincing, he looked picture perfect, happy, and even though he knew it was all a lie, Victor couldn’t stop the burning jealously in the pit of his stomach, the monster inside him that snarled at the thought of his one and only being taken away. 

So as the Suwabe’s took measures to keep all their legal affairs safe and sound, Victor _finally_ got to move, to do what he did best and let loose with all the fury in his veins, and it was all thanks to Yuuri.

Yuuri, who sent him information on all the drug trades and stock warehouses he could subtly get information on, every travel route for their blackmarket pharmaceuticals, underground auctions for narcotic chemicals, all Victor’s next targets. No one wanted to deal with a group when everything to do with them ended up in death and disaster.

And so his bid to ruin their underworld standing began in tandem with everything else. 

That was when Victor went back to Japan to start the beginning of the end of the Suwabe family. 

* * *

Otabek never said a word when Victor joined him and a small band of men in Japan, he only shrugged and did as Victor asked. If Victor ever felt bad for lying to anyone, it should have been then, because he knew he could probably tell Otabek everything and it would be as safe as if it were still only Victor and Yuuri that knew. Instead he let Otabek think the same as Yakov, that it was all fuelled by hate and revenge, not insatiable greed and longing. 

Dressed in black from head to toe, black beanies, black medical masks, Victor, Otabek and every single one of the five men Otabek trusted enough to hire for the job, went on a rampage as Victor blew subtlety out of the water.  
Victor got his blood and then some using the information from Yuuri, he ambushed Suwabe’s illicit trades and killed everyone in sight, snapped necks and slit throats, emptied clip after clip of ammunition into flesh, he felt his own blood sing in reply as he finally gave into what he wanted, massacre. 

He burnt down Suwabe storehouses in the dark of night with the moon and stars that he’d promised to Yuuri as witness, he listened to the guards inside _scream_ as the men sealed all the exits.  
Victor set everything on fire that would catch, doused it all in petrol and threw a match onto transport trucks and the drugs inside. He piled bodies one on top of another, dead men that stunk of piss and fear with eyes glazed over, and set them all ablaze. 

He let the Suwabe’s world burn bit by bit as he destroyed them, and the heat from the fire felt fucking good. 

It was no secret by now that the Suwabe’s had a problem, every underworld family, every rival company, every opportunist who sat in wait for scraps would be baring their teeth, none more so than Victor. 

Maybe Victor had thought too highly of them in the first place to put them on equal standings with the Katsuki’s, equal fortune didn’t mean equal strength, equal fighting spirit or ruthlessness. Victor _knew_ that if the Katsuki’s were in this position, if Yuuri was in this position, that things wouldn’t be going this smoothly. The Katsuki’s were used to fighting, used to waging war and winning. The Suwabe’s had become so complacent with their name, content and relaxed because of all the legal support and legitimate standing they had that they weren’t used to fending off attack after attack like this. 

And it was because Victor had never come at someone this hard before, a barrage pinpointed in one direction, the epicentre of all his feelings for Yuuri, the good, the bad, and the heinous included. It was something so subconscious as breathing, thinking about Yuuri the whole time, desperation and panic that never went away because even though he was succeeding with this he knew deep down it would never stop. The truth hurt, Victor always knew, but it cut the deepest when it came from Yuuri’s own mouth. 

_’There’s always going to be something and we both know it.’_

* * *

So he went back to Russia after burning up a storm of all the assets of the Suwabe’s that Victor could reach, one month to go, and the only thing he could do then was watch as the fire consumed everything in its path.

Before now, Victor never thought it was possible to get physically ill just from missing someone, it felt like he’d _aged_ , worry gnawed at his bones, this sickness he felt because his life had gone back to the way it was before Yuuri was in it.

Even this small taste of emptiness was too much, too _vast_ for him to know what to do with himself while he watched the aftermath of his plan do its work. 

Victor had smashed the foundation the Suwabe’s perched on, it was all unstable footing for them now, precarious edges and toxic smoke, and unlike Victor, they couldn’t handle the heat. 

The world burned all over, international companies whose metaphorical rubble put pressure on the Suwabe family when they collapsed. Major underworld dealers found new suppliers from outside of Japan in an effort to stay away from the disaster surrounding them, it was all beginning to go up in flames, working better than Victor expected.

It wasn’t something so straightforward as arrogance or cockiness that made Victor unsurprised that he was halfway to pulling off the impossible, it was because the only thing that was impossible in the first place was not succeeding in this. But even then it’d pushed him to his limits, Yakov of all people was _worried_ about what Victor had done, how far he’d gone in order to see this through. They’d lost over half of the organisations assets, covering those losses from the world in order to hide Nikiforov involvement was only a paper thin cover that would collapse with a puff of air from anyone who came looking. 

Victor had lost nearly everything from his own personal accounts, no one owed him any more debts, there were no more favours he could call in, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full nights sleep, a proper meal sitting down at a table without his hideous feelings eating his appetite. 

He’d come as close to pathetic as he would let himself be, Yuuri would break if he saw Victor like this, blame himself and take it on as another heavy burden on his slender shoulders. So every day Victor held his chin high and kept his back straight, he showed the face of Victor Nikiforov to all, because that’s who Yuuri had chosen in the first place. There was a sick sense of pride in that, something that fuelled the fire inside him and had him baring his teeth, Yuuri would always be the only one who could handle him, who could challenge him, make him want to become something greater than he already was. 

And it seemed his greatness had improved over the passed two months, because as it all went up in flames, the Suwabe’s turned to ashes. It was slow at first, the liquidation of their companies, redundancies and selling of stock market shares. But the thing was, wildfires didn’t stop until they consumed everything in their path, until they’d stripped the ground bare of all life to leave smoking ruins and memories of what once was.

* * *

Victor was in his office now, cold and oppressive at a too early hour of the morning to even be awake, and it was only because he hadn’t gone to sleep in the first place.  
Everything was all newly refurbished, lifeless decor that most people would fuss over, new art and frames on the wall, a new leather couch in the corner. The holes he’d punched in the textured grey walls had all been repaired, the new ones he’d made had been too. He had a new chair, a new desk, exactly the same as before, but not the same the way it counted.  
Victor thought about the old desk that Yuuri had knelt under when he snuck in that day. He remembered how Yuuri had been so hot and daring, _bold_ , despite the risk, no, because of the risk that sucking him off under the desk while Victor met with someone brought. Regret was a useless emotion, it wouldn’t get you anywhere or win you anything, but it was too bad he’d destroyed that desk, the things he’d done to Yuuri on it the moment his client left were something worth keeping a memento over. 

He’d just have to make sure to make more memories with the new desk if he ever got the chance again. Today would be the day he’d know if that chance might come or not. 

The Suwabe pharma company had lost research contracts and hospital partnerships overnight, all withdrawn at once because of sudden legal investigations. Mr and Mrs Suwabe were no where to be found, they’d run with as much as they could take as their empire was torn apart by those that preyed on opportunity and misfortune. 

Still Victor waited, sat at his desk as the sun wheeled higher in the sky and cast its morning glow in the office, it shone on his back, tried to reach him with its innocent warmth, Victor was too cold to feel a thing. 

This was the day he’d been working for, everything he’d planned for was happening except one thing. All he wanted was his phone to light up with a message from an unknown number he knew off by heart, it sat on his desk in front of him, and even Victor Nikiforov’s sharpest glare wasn’t enough to command the phone to do what he wished. It was only a phone, it would go off in its own time, because it was Yuuri who was the only who he was waiting to hear from, and of course Yuuri couldn’t be commanded by him. 

Such a minuscule, ridiculous thought as that still had him smiling, because he really was that crazy about Yuuri, crazy enough to get angry at his phone for making him wait, even though he’d wait forever if he had to. 

Yakov checked on him more than once, stepped into his office to see him sitting there, brooding and murderous still, silent with his fingers clasped together on the polished wooden surface of his desk, a perfect picture of the Russian Mafia. 

It was nearly 10am when his phone went off, one abrupt vibrate on his desk, an unsightly buzz as the screen lit up with a flash, Victor had it in his hand before it even stopped beeping.

He opened the notification in an instant, throat tight to cut off his air as his whole existence hung on the message on the screen. 

_9.53am from: unknown number:_  
‘It’s done, Victor.  
Thank you.’

The world spun in the right direction, the sky was up where it should be, he didn’t choke on the very heart in his chest, Victor pressed is forehead to the screen of his phone as the world righted itself, and he smiled. 

“Anytime, Yuuri.” the terrifying thing was he meant it, he’d do it again and again.

Yuuri was his and his alone once more, but it wasn’t enough, the Suwabe family’s fall from grace should be this immensely pleasing thing, yet it still felt like this hollow victory. Victor Nikiforov always finished what he started, and Yuuri knew this most of all, because his phone went off again before he could find the words to reply. 

_9.59am from: unknown number:  
‘I’ll see you soon.’_

* * *

Victor was on the first private jet he could arrange to Tokyo, this time he was too _excited_ to sleep during the flight, even as bone deep tired as he was. 

It wasn’t innocent excitement though, it was closer to the excitement a predator gets when he knows he has his prey right where it should be, bloodied, cowering, and ready to die. He wore his finest suit for this, black on black with a grey double breasted waist coat and paisley tie, and fitted black slacks that were cut at the ankle just right. Victor wasn’t oblivious to his good looks like Yuuri was, and right now was probably the best he’d looked in his life, it was the best he’d felt too.  
He’d cleaned his guns and reassembled them with meticulous care, polished his shoes, he’d done his hair. He wore charm with the scent of bloodlust, malicious smile genuine, the most terrifying face he could show to the world.

Today he was Victor Nikiforov, heir of the Russian Mafia _and_ Katsuki Yuuri’s other half, he’d never been both of those things at once before.  


Now he was following the information Yuuri had messaged him during the 12 hour flight. There was a parked car waiting for him at the airport, a black Maserati coup that he knew to be Yuuri’s own personal car, and it was Yuuri through and through, black wheels, low profile tyres, black leather interior with no signs of personal effects. It was small and beautiful, sleek and refined and classy in a way that only Yuuri was, it could also leave nearly every other car in the dust. 

The keys were hidden in one of the wheel wells, the next location already preset in the GPS navigation, all Victor had to do was put the key in the ignition to unlock the security system, push the start button on the centre console, and follow the directions that Yuuri had set to English for him.

* * *

He drove from Haneda airport to Tokyo and didn’t have to go much further than the half hour drive, the directions took him back to the same district where he’d stood outside the Katsuki’s nearly three months ago on the night he’d nearly done something irreversible. 

As the meters ticked down to his point of arrival, Victor felt his blood thrum faster and faster as the Maserati purred on the freeway. He knew exactly where he was going, he knew what the house looked like, he had blue prints and the lay out all memorised, he knew exactly how he would approach this house if he had to storm its walls, what door he'd kick in to get inside, and which direction he'd point his gun once he'd breached the interior.

Victor was almost regretful he wouldn't get to do any of that, no setting of fires to turn it all into another smouldering boneyard, no screams of terror to fuel the blaze. Victor's cruel streak ran as deep as the abyss was black, because when Yuuri was involved his feelings were both, dark and bottomless. 

Yuuri would be waiting there for Victor at the unofficial Suwabe residence, the one media didn’t know about, the one that was meant to be safe.

With Victor coming, with Yuuri there too, it was anything but.

* * *

The electric gate to the large residence opened as soon as he pulled up to the curb, inside the white rendered fence the courtyard and property was lifeless, _abandoned._

For such a large property in the heart of Tokyo, the modern three story mansion should be bustling with house keepers and servants. There should be cars in the open garage on the side of the house, there should be guards and security on the look out, those typical men it suits that thought just because they wore one they were strong. There was a special sort of disdain Victor spared for those types, it wasn't the suit that made you, it's what you did while wearing it that made it your own personal second skin. 

There wasn’t any of that though, no meatheads or brawlers, it was all empty. Yuuri had been to work already, and knowing that only made the impending adrenaline rush that much more tangible.

Life went on for the world on the other side of the fence, cars rushed passed on the road, people strolled passed on the sidewalk, oblivious to the void of life inside the property that common folk would never understand when it came to the dead. It was a unique sort of silence, and unless your ears were tuned to the sound of someone else's complete and utter defeat, their hopelessness and terror, then you'd never know what it was like to be truly victorious. 

Victor's footsteps echoed on the white pave stones that led to the front door, left open in invitation, not kicked in or smashed, because Yuuri had been let in based on trust. 

_Oh_ , it was a struggle not to laugh, a real heartfelt laugh that warmed his frigid soul like only Yuuri could. The bodies he stepped over at the threshold probably never had a chance to wonder why they were bleeding. 

The marble floors in the foyer and hall were all stained and spattered with the life blood of the fallen, it reeked of terror, that signature smell of piss and shit along with the iron tang of murder. 

There were five men Victor could see, loyal men who'd made the wrong decision to stay behind, all face up with empty eyes and stupid gaping mouths of disbelief even in death. 

Some had faces slashed, eyes gouged, noses caved in, every single one of them had their throats slit ear to ear in a bloody smile that pooled on the white marble around their corpse. 

Yuuri had finally been set free of his shackles, there was probably no man on the planet more blood thirsty than him right now. He had three months worth of pretending to make up for after all. 

Victor ignored the hallway on ground level and took a stairway to the left, there was a trickle of blood down those once clean marble steps too. The stair case turned back on itself before he got to the second floor, and at the second level foyer he found the exact same mess. Absolute ruin and mercilessness. 

"Yuuri, I hope you saved some for me." Victor chuckled to himself in the stillness, and he was well aware of how unstable he sounded now that he was so close to what he wanted. 

Up the stairway he went again, the hard bottoms of his dress shoes clacking ominously on the marble with each measured step higher. 

The third floor only had three bedrooms for Victor to choose from, three polished wooden doors with brass handles that led to luxury. Knowing the nature of prey in flight, they were always prone to picking the furthest room, the path that would let them run a little further, a little longer hoping for a way out. 

So that's where Victor went, he bypassed the two other doors and the open living area before he got to the third door that he knew led to a small office. Before he could even open the door, steady hand set on the cold handle: Victor heard the cracked yelling of a young man who'd been abandoned and then lost everything. 

"I should have known you were too good to be true! What are you waiting for? Just kill me already and be done with it." a heart broken man, angry and desperate. Victor knew how Suwabe felt at that moment, like the earth was turning backwards, like the moon crashing was into the sea, one’s own personal apocalypse.

Victor listened at the door, the pause timed by someone who knew the clock was theirs to control. 

"I'm not going to kill you, Ryu, I'm waiting for the person that is." the drawl was smooth and heated, like the first sip of aged whiskey after a long day, that liquid fire that went best with blood. 

There was no way for Victor to resist that voice, so he pushed the handle down and stepped through the door at last to find exactly what he would always want. 

Katsuki Yuuri, free of his mask, streaked in drying red that was already turning black, bloodied from head to toe in his perfect black suit as he leant against a giant wooden desk with his ankles crossed. Poised, languid, and with a look in his eyes that could burn a man alive from the inside.

And fuck, Yuuri was so beautiful it was hard to look at anything else. 

Normally he'd take in the polished wooden floors and the elaborate wallpaper with scrollwork cornices, the leather chair that'd been kicked over, the scattered paperwork and the French doors that led to a small balcony. Mapping his surroundings was automatic, but with Yuuri in front of him now it was impossible. 

He even ignored Suwabe Ryu, trussed up in a haphazard suit with his hands tied, sitting on the floor against the wall at Yuuri's feet because the room was that narrow. 

Because then Yuuri was looking at Victor too like he was the only thing his sight impaired eyes could see without those blue framed glasses, they probably had too much blood on them to be useful now. Victor felt his heart leap out of his chest in Yuuri's direction, felt his fingers twitch as they longed to reach out, and Victor couldn’t wait any longer. 

Victor Nikiforov doesn't rush, but his steps across to Yuuri were the definition of as Yuuri pushed himself away from the desk to meet him. He'd always marvel at how perfectly their bodies slot together when they met like this, his hands on Yuuri's hips, foreheads touching as they mirrored each other's soul, as their hearts tried to mend but didn't quite know where to start because there was too much damage. 

They greeted each other with silence this time, no whisper of names and no sweet sighs before kisses, there was no way Victor could utter Yuuri's name, Suwabe Ryu didn't deserve to hear it the way it should be said. 

So it was a drawn out look into each other’s eyes instead, the reliving of months gone by in the window of each other’s conscious, each other’s pain, each other’s struggle, and Victor flinched at the thought of _possibilities_ , the notion of things Yuuri might have done to play this role as well as he had.

And it was useless after all to think that his heart could ever possibly mend from going through this time and time again. Tension worked its way into his jaw, his eyes stung, fingers tightened on Yuuri’s hips until neither of them could take it any more. 

Yuuri shut his eyes against it all first, this slow drawn out closure as he tried to pull himself together, and Victor would rather suffer tenfold that have Yuuri break down here and now, not in front of Suwabe Ryu, not like this. So he stepped away and gave Yuuri a knowing smile after he opened his eyes, Victor saw Yuuri right himself, the twitch of his lip that Victor knew to be a smile too, and so with that he finally turned to the object of all this bullshit. 

Suwabe Ryu stared up at them both, unmoving with the look of someone who’d just been shown how big the universe is and was trying to find a word to describe it but couldn’t because it was incomprehensible.

Doubt crossed his eyes, panic, denial, more doubt and _anger_ , and Victor had to give him one thing, both Victor and Yuuri were staring back down at him, the most ominous thing one single person might ever see, and he wasn’t begging or crying, he hadn’t pissed himself or lost control. Everything about that could change though, because they were only just getting started. 

In the end Victor got hysteric laughter, mad and sardonic from Suwabe after the silence had spread itself thick, the sound erie amidst so much quiet. "I should have figured it out. Only Victor Nikiforov could pull this off."

Victor allowed himself a smirk at that, allowed the temperature of his blood to rise as he stepped forward to loom over a helpless Suwabe Ryu.

"Only Victor Nikiforov could pull this off for Yuuri." Victor corrected, impassive.

That got him more empty mirth, and Victor could almost understand, sometimes even he struggled to understand that things were really like this. 

"I was doomed from the start, wasn't I?” came the next question, it wasn’t rhetorical or without want of an answer, it was genuine, the query of someone who wanted to know how long they’d been a dead man.

“From the moment you laid eyes on him.” confirmation was the only thing Victor could give him, because he wasn’t getting anything else, not mercy, not pity, not Katsuki Yuuri.

“Ha, this is fucking insane, _you’re_ actually insane.” _Now_ Suwabe was trembling, pupils dilating as his brain raced to catch up with reason because of the answer that Victor had given, the pitiless ode of his imminent death. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” and Victor was only growing more callous and uncaring by the second.

Suwabe didn’t last long, but Victor still had to respect the meagre length of time it took for him to break, there was no point trying to hold yourself together when ruin was inevitable anyway, so Suwabe snapped, he snarled and tried to kick out with his feet, and all Victor did was watch with Yuuri at his side.

“You don’t know that you’re both fucking as doomed as me! Ha! Something between the Katsukis and the Nikiforovs will never work out in this life or the next, I hope you know that at lea-“

All it took for Suwabe to snap his lips shut was Yuuri stepping forward, hands in his pockets, eyes full of more disgust and irritation than Victor had ever seen on one single person. It was the face of disdain, and it left Victor shaken to the core to see Yuuri even look at someone like that. Victor could see fear in Yuuri too, the one that came when someone touched on your own biggest weakness, the one he’d seen when they fought, the deep rooted agony. Yuuri carried himself well despite it all, head held hight, shoulders set firm, and he looked down at Suwabe Ryu as he made his own personal promise to burn everything. 

“If we're doomed, then so is everyone else.” and it was a fact, not an opinion, something Yuuri believed with all his person, the oath was heartbreaking, a promise to see the end with each other. 

Suwabe crumbled further under the weight of that heartless regard, _broke_ against the cruelty of something that he’d loved, it was all over his face, only a heart broken by betrayal could ruin a man that much. Victor didn’t fucking care, there was only one man on earth that could _have_ Katsuki Yuuri, and it was him. 

So Victor held his temper as Yuuri ignored Suwabe once more to face him instead. Yuuri stood at his side and twined his blood sticky fingers with Victor’s own to slip the unmistakable feel of a hotel room key in his hand. Then, Yuuri pressed his chest close against Victor’s arm and stood up on his tip toes to kiss Victor on the cheek with soft lips that lingered before he whispered against the skin of Victor’s temple. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Victor.” 

Then, Yuuri left without a backward glance toward his former betrothed, and Victor was finally alone with Suwabe Ryu. 

Victor couldn’t help it, because now he really knew that he was the only one Yuuri wanted to stay close to, so as he took his own knife out, he hummed that song that came to him whenever he thought of his one and only. 

_’Stay close to me, and never leave.’_  


* * *

In the end Victor didn’t make Yuuri wait long at all, Suwabe lay dead in the mansion when Victor left with the hotel room key secure in his pocket. 

It was a swift drive in Yuuri’s car to the centre of Tokyo as the sun fell from the sky, it was speeding into the VIP parking section underground and pulling into a parking bay with a screech of tyres. Then he hurried on foot to the VIP elevator that the room key gave him access to. He could bypass the lobby and check in with this key, go straight up the to the floor where Yuuri would be, right at the top of one of the richest, _tallest_ hotels in Tokyo.

It was reckless to be seen here, even if it was just down a hallway or in the carpark, Victor was beyond caring anymore. 

This was nothing like the hotels that he picked when it was his turn, it was clean and simple, sophisticated with lines and neutral colours, just like Yuuri’s apartment. 

He didn’t pay attention to his surroundings here either though, it was standing in the mirror walled elevator, foot tapping as it went up floor by floor while the ghastly music did nothing to ease his impatience. It was gritting his teeth as the music cut off to announce his floor in Japanese and then robotic English, he stood before the double doors all the while, waiting for that trademark ting that would open the doors and let him into the plush carpet hallway. 

Already he knew how woefully wrong this was going to go, how much they would fuck this up, how much it would hurt, Victor forged ahead anyway. Thinking about it was something he didn’t want to do anymore, because even if he took time to sort his own head out, it would still all be scrambled again the moment he set eyes on Yuuri. 

So he rushed again, long strides all the way down to the end of the hallway to the room number that matched the one on his access card, 191. With a swift flourish of the card over the mechanical lock, with a beep and a green light that said access granted, Victor let himself into the giant sky suite and had his breath veritably stolen all over again. 

It was _always_ like this, love at first sight all over again. Yuuri would never know how hard Victor fought to contain himself every single time they met, how much he struggled not to sweep him up into his arms in an effort to make up for all the times he’d wanted to hug him but couldn’t.

Victor threw all that restraint to the wind this time, because Yuuri was standing in front of the corner to corner window, a silhouette against the floor to ceiling glass pane that gave them a view of the whole city of Tokyo and all its flashing lights bright against the hues of night. Any other time Victor would appreciate that view before they inevitably shut the curtains, the speckles of colour that flickered on one by one, the giant billboards lit up across the city centre, the warm lights of moving cars and the blink of bicycle lights on the sidewalk down below. 

It was hard to even _speak_ , when the view of Katsuki Yuuri in front of it all had stolen his tongue. Freshly showered with messy wet hair, cheeks flushed from the heat and not a drop of blood to be seen, he wore a new pair of dress slacks low on his hips, and he was alluringly bare from the waist up. The skin of Yuuri’s chest was flawless as always, untouched as it should be, and those breathtaking tattoos on full display along the slender lengths of his arms were as brilliant as he remembered them.

This is where they should talk, should reassure each other, this is where they should take it _slow_. 

'Fuck slow’, was all Victor could think. 

He didn’t pay attention to the rest of the luxury room, the enormous bed that took up all the space in the centre of it all, its crisp white sheets and fluffed up pillows, the dark wallpaper and dimmed lamps on the night stands. In three long steps he’d met Yuuri halfway across the room, pulse out of control as he crushed his lips against Yuuri’s. It was a heady, _dangerously_ addicting feeling, the instant lack of breath, the rush as Yuuri jumped to wrap his legs around Victor’s waist and hold on. 

The alarm bells of his conscience told him to stop, some form of common sense in the back of his head told him to wait, because they still had so much they needed to say to each other. It was too late. Everything else that was Victor couldn’t resist, his heart, his soul, his body, it all craved for Yuuri, and with Yuuri’s arms around his neck, with Yuuri’s teeth pulling at his bottom lip, he knew Yuuri craved for him too.

It was by complete accident that Victor carried them both back to the window, he had no control of anything with his hands gripped firm on Yuuri’s ass, with Yuuri pressing his body closer and closer.

He wondered if Yuuri ever caught on to how close Victor, a 26 year old crime lord with everyone else's life at his fingertips, was to coming in his pants sometimes when Yuuri was this desperate for him. He nearly came undone right then and there when the bare skin of Yuuri’s tattooed back made contact with the cold window pane behind him, because Yuuri _gasped_ into his mouth, moaned and clung on more so Victor could rut them against the thick glass.

“Clothes off, Victor, _please._ ” Yuuri huffed into his neck, biting at his pulse as Yuuri’s hands scrabbled at Victor’s tie even before his jacket and waist coat, before his holsters and guns even. 

It was insanely fucking sexy, having a half naked Yuuri begging for him, vulnerable when Victor was still fully armed. So all he did was roll his hips again, friction driving them both even more mad with the hard press of their cocks against each other. 

“ _Victor._ ” and Yuuri was whimpering already, digging his fingers into Victor’s back to hold on to reason and coherency as Victor dry fucked him against the glass, “If you don’t stop I’ll come already.” 

“Already?” Victor was no better, voice husky as he teased Yuuri further between renewed kisses, open mouthed and sloppy.

“Mm, I missed you.” was the rushed answer he got after a few more swipes of tongues, it was that moment that Yuuri’s hand pulled Victor’s tie loose and then hooked around the horizontal holster strap across his chest in a bid to _rip_ it off instead. 

And that wasn’t playing fair at all, Yuuri using those words he hardly ever said here and now, so Victor stopped nonetheless, held Yuuri up against the glass as their hearts thundered as one, and went for Yuuri’s throat instead because it was so deliciously inviting. “How do you want it then?”

Yuuri answered before he could even make contact though, before he could sink his teeth into that pale stretch of skin and taste.

“With you inside me.” Yuuri choked the words out one by one, painfully honest in his breathlessness, and Victor felt his whole body _throb._

Fuck. Only sheer willpower kept Victor from losing it completely, from making a mess inside his briefs all because of something Yuuri _said_ , he had to clench his teeth, clench his whole body in an effort just to stop himself from slamming Yuuri against the glass one more time so they could both come. 

It was painful, prying his fingers away from the firm flesh of Yuuri’s ass to let him down, but the moment those bare feet were on the floor, the moment Victor’s body was free without Yuuri draping off him, Yuuri’s hands were already going to work. It was automatic, the path Yuuri’s hands followed to undress him no matter what speed they were going, he’d done this for Victor more times than he’d like to count. 

And, like he’d been doing for the last three months, Victor helped Yuuri here too, he threw his jacket off once Yuuri had undone all the buttons so Yuuri could start disarming him. He lifted his arms and bent his knees after Yuuri loosened the straps across his body and around his shoulders so Yuuri could pull the holsters with his weapons still loaded off over his head.

Next came his waist coat, his shirt, his belt, he let Yuuri do all of it, let him brush a hand over the throbbing bulge of his cock as Yuuri pulled his pants down. 

That’s when he stopped and stayed Yuuri’s hands on his briefs, stopped an insistent touch pressing against his dick as Yuuri moaned at the feel of it under the heel of his palm. 

“I want it, Victor.” and Yuuri was rushing too, begging, trying to get beyond the point of talking and thinking, trying to run away from the truth they both knew. 

It took a deep kiss to distract Yuuri, to stop him from rubbing Victor off through the thin fabric of his briefs. It was a mighty effort, Victor was enjoying it far too much, the knot of heat in his gut, the friction that Yuuri always got just right with those heaven sent hands. And against all instincts, against all his wants, he managed to calm them both down enough so they could breathe, because Victor didn’t want this to be over too soon. It was his turn to take Yuuri out of the few things he had on, to _try_ and talk some feeling into this situation instead of just fucking it all away.

“Yuuri.” and it was so good to get Yuuri’s name off his chest, to let it out into the open between the two of them, and he could see that fear on Yuuri’s face all over again, the one Yuuri had been trying to hide from the moment Victor walked in. The truth that crushed Yuuri, the one that Victor finally understood was true.

_’There’s always going to be something and we both know it.’_

Why did it always have to fucking be this way? Whenever he had Yuuri in his arms, whenever he was in Yuuri’s, they always ended up hurting each other, because the truth always did that, it always hurt. This time the worst of all. 

“Turn around.” Victor said next. It was cornering the broken all over again, the battered thing that was their relationship as Yuuri flinched against the window, as he shook his head and fought against the truth behind him. “Turn around, Yuuri.” 

“Don’t, Victor.” he could see the pleading look in Yuuri’s eyes, the one that was too afraid to say more because of the sob that would come out instead. Yuuri was clutching at Victor’s biceps now, doing anything he could to keep facing the way he was instead of turning. 

Victor knew this at least had to be done, as much as it pained him to, "You need to, Yuuri, so we can both face the truth."

Lies between lovers made people weak, it made everything weak, they couldn’t keep going based on illusions and denial. If they wanted to ever stand a chance against the world, they had to know what they were looking at, the real thing. Yuuri had known what damage lies could do all along, and now it was time for them to look at reality together. 

All Victor could do to reassure him was pepper kisses in the crown of his hair as they stood up against the window, soothe him with gentle words and all the sweet nothings that added up to everything. So when Victor eventually grabbed Yuuri by the hips once more to guide him, Yuuri finally turned around to face the view of the city. 

No solid walls between them and the world, no shut curtains and no suits of fabric armour to hide behind, it was like being out in the open for the first time in their life together. The window let them see it all, let them see the world which would never see them standing here up high in this quiet hotel room. 

Yuuri’s back trembled against his chest as he struggled with reality in front of him, and even Victor couldn’t save him from this, he couldn’t when he was in the exact same place. Still he wrapped his arms around Yuuri anyway, held him as tight as he ever had so they could come out of this closer than what they’d come in.

Something so simple as looking at the view with his partner shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t _hurt_. Being with someone shouldn’t cause this much suffering and they both knew it. It was harsh truth after harsh truth. What they had together wasn’t good for either of them, and it was never going to stop being this way. 

Yuuri's words rang true. There was always going to be something, another marriage, another group that wanted the blood of either of them, another threat against their life. And every time it happened they would only end up in more pain, with more cuts and bruises in places that never healed. The last thing a relationship should be was like _this_ , like them.

And, they were _both_ insane, because the last thing either of them would do now was walk away despite slowly burning on the heat of their own fire. Victor knew, in the end they’d either be left standing on the ashes, or turned to dust along with everything instead. 

“Look at us here, Yuuri. Together on top of the world,” Victor placed kisses atop Yuuri’s shoulders as he spoke to try and numb the pain, to try and ease the sob that finally escaped Yuuri’s mouth. “And no one will ever know.” 

“Don’t, Victor.” Yuuri braced himself on the window, fingers smudging the glass with his forehead pressed against the cold surface, “Don’t.”

“No one will ever know we're together.” His throat tightened around the words in an effort to strangle him, to keep him from speaking the trials of their relationship. It was the worst to admit, because nothing would make Victor happier than having Yuuri by his side with this world at their feet, with everyone knowing the pair of them were only complete together. "No one will know what I did for you. No one will know how I feel about you. No one will ever hear me say your name.” 

The strongest person he knew crumbled in front of him word by word, Yuuri’s emotions caved in as he glared down at the city of Tokyo like he _wanted_ to destroy it. 

"It's not fair." Yuuri grit out through frustrated teeth. And it was the first time in his life that he'd ever heard Katsuki Yuuri complain about anything. Out of all Yuuri's circumstances, abandoned by his own blood, used as a tool to further something that would never belong to him, trained to be weapon, out of all that the thing he called _unfair_ was standing here with Victor in secrecy. 

"I hate it, Yuuri.” Victor growled back, it was easy to agree with Yuuri, because out of all the traumas in Victor’s life, it might be this one that he’d never get over. “No one will know about us, about the team we make, about how perfect we _could_ be, but everyone fucking knows about you and that wannabe dragon. It makes me sick." 

It did make him sick, nauseous like something inside him had been displaced and wouldn’t go back in the right spot, all he could do was endure just like he’d endured everything else up until now. 

Long, elegant fingers curled against the glass in helplessness, Yuuri breathing back whatever pain he was about to voice with a grimace that Victor could see in the reflection of the window in front of them. 

The irony of seeing the image of them standing there was mocking, Victor’s height and width framing Yuuri’s body like he was made to stand behind him, because through it he could still see the stretch of city from one edge of the horizon to the other, a picture of two things that would never go together. 

Through it all, Yuuri hadn’t answered him, he’d shut himself up in his own world in order to cope, and the insane part of Victor, the insecure man who needed reassuring even after all Yuuri had done for him still had things he wanted to know. 

"Yuuri…” Victor pushed on, gentle as he delved deeper into his own doubts, “was he better than me?"

And Yuuri _flinched_ against the glass, body rigid for a split second as his world was thrown off its axis at the question. "Don't be stupid, Victor"

For the first time, Victor _needed_ a real answer, not some bodily reaction that always told Victor what he wanted to know, not some blush that he could read like an open book. He needed Yuuri, a man of few words who always meant what he said, to answer his question. "I need to know, Yuuri. Was he a better match for you than me?" 

"Victor,” Yuuri started, he set his shoulders once more, stood up straight and turned his neck to look up at Victor directly, brown eyes endless as Yuuri finally revealed the depth of his feelings. “I could search the whole world. Nobody is better than you."

Three years ago, before he met Yuuri, if you’d told him that one day he’d be brought to his knees by a simple sentence, Victor would have shot you in the kneecap. Victor Nikiforov didn’t _kneel_ to anyone, yet here he was now, sinking to the floor in the grips of an emotion that he knew was only meant to be felt, never described because words paled in comparison.

So in his briefs, exposed without any walls or weapons, he knelt there on the floor behind Yuuri, clutching at the fabric of Yuuri’s pants that he’d yet to take off, and after a while all he could say was:

“Thank you.” 

“I’m the one who should be saying that.” Yuuri whispered against the glass to himself, self loathing because he had too much pride to ask for help. 

And despite all this shit, the time they’d lost and the damage they’d caused, despite Victor’s out of control feelings, Yuuri still found it in himself to painfully honest, to be himself. Victor didn’t know what he was more grateful for, Yuuri had given him everything, Victor would still take more if he could. 

“I’m the only one that can stay close to you, Yuuri.” and so Victor vowed as he pushed for more, because these selfish feelings would never go away, they couldn’t be pushed down or controlled. The vice grip on his heart was squeezing with possessive desire even now, twisting his gut as it took over once more.

“Just like I’m the only one who can stay close to you.” And it was well enough he was on his knees, Victor thought, because that whispered answer that he thought Yuuri would never admit would have put him there anyway. It was relief and insane pride that Yuuri felt the same as he did, that he had those monopolising desires to have Victor all to himself, that if it came down to it he would have tried to do exactly what Victor had done and burn a family to the ground. 

It was overwhelming, a different sort of rush that left him hungry and greedy all over again, his blood ran hot once more as his heart picked up its pace, no one would ever know about them up here, and no one would stand a chance against them even if they did. 

“Stake your claim, Victor.” Yuuri huffed down at him, teasing, daring, _shy_ once more, and if Victor could see Yuuri’s face from the floor he knew that Yuuri would be blushing. Deadly and adorable, it was an enamouring combination. 

“Where?” Victor held his breath, hands paused on Yuuri’s thighs, the touch through the fabric setting fire to them both.

“Everywhere.” Yuuri eventually sighed, sagging against the window further as his knees trembled.

They both knew what this was too, Victor kneeling behind Yuuri as Victor’s hands traveled up and around, undoing Yuuri’s belt and pants without needing to see. He’d done this enough that his hands moved on their own, the metallic clink of the belt buckle, the short buzz of the zip undoing, the whoosh the pants made as they fell to the floor.

It was nothing short of worship as Victor picked Yuuri’s feet up one by one to step him out of his pants and throw them aside, because then he could finally start on Yuuri’s body and check every single inch of him from head to toe before claiming it.

He’d always been obsessed with Yuuri’s body, he’d always devoted himself to it, but never like this. 

“Victor… you don’t have to do this.” Yuuri’s voice cracked with a constrained groan as he braced more of his weight against the glass, body pliant and willing despite the words coming out out his mouth. 

It was easier to say nothing, to do as Yuuri did and use actions instead of words to pick Yuuri’s foot up, fingers wrapped gentle around his ankle, and kiss the sole of Yuuri’s foot.

Yuuri shivered in turn, tried to pull his foot back as he gasped his denial that this was really happening, that Victor Nikiforov was on his knees devoting himself to Yuuri. 

It's what he'd been doing the last nearly three months anyway, devoting every last second of his time to stopping that stupid marriage, spending his every thought thinking about Yuuri, praying to a god he didn't believe in that this would work out fine. The only difference now was that he got to do it in real life. 

So Victor kept kissing Yuuri's soft skin, Yuuri stopped fighting and kept breathing heavy against the glass instead. He placed chaste kisses everywhere, he moved from Yuuri's foot to the inside of his ankle, spurred on by the sound of his name rolling soft off Yuuri's tongue over and over again. 

The only other time in his life he'd been this nervous was their very first time, nothing could stop him shaking, could send his heart back down his throat, could slow his pulse or cool his blood. How on earth could he stay calm when Yuuri trusted him this much? 

He lost himself in Yuuri's skin, kissing, biting, mapping Yuuri's body out all over again as he bent Yuuri's leg to explore the hard muscle of his calf, the crease of his knee, the thick meat of his hamstring where the coloured tattoos started. Higher and higher Victor used his mouth on Yuuri's amazing body, on the inked skin that sent Victor into a fever every time he set his eyes on them. 

It was pulling Yuuri's briefs down quick so he could bite into the flesh of Yuuri's ass, smiling against the smooth skin as Yuuri _moaned_ because they both knew he loved it. 

His own insides wound up tighter and tighter, his cock throbbing heavy in his own underwear as he nibbled across to Yuuri's other cheek to work his way back down to the other foot. 

This was the time that they should be taking, stretching it out as far as it would go to savour it because they never knew when they would get another moment alone. It was a task Victor would gladly devote himself to, it wasn’t even staking his claim, it was being grateful for having something he never thought he deserved.

Yuuri would always be more spectacular than any view of any city, he’d always steal Victor’s attention, tuning out the view of Tokyo at their feet and looking at Yuuri instead was easy, and distracting from it all was just as easy too. Victor considered this one of his most important jobs, making Yuuri forget everything else but _him_ for the small space of time they were together. All he wanted to do was make Yuuri feel good, he wanted to make Yuuri _happy._

If lighting Yuuri’s skin on fire was the only way to do it right now, then Victor had no trouble at all setting himself to the task, he kissed his way all the way back up Yuuri’s leg, dragged his teeth along the soft flesh and heard Yuuri’s breathing turn into something wrecked with each touch of his lips.

He bypassed Yuuri’s ass this time, relished the frustrated whine he got and felt his dick jump because Yuuri already wanted it. And he kissed all over the skin of Yuuri’s back instead. Each red dragon scale, each flower petal along the patterns of the wind until there was no part of it that Victor hadn’t touched. His fingers joined in, raised goosebumps along the planes of Yuuri’s muscles as he ran gentle fingernails up and down to turn Yuuri’s entire being into putty in his hands.

When Yuuri was absolutely beside himself, his breathing rapid, fogging up the glass in front of his face to blur that view of the city, that’s when Victor sank back down to his knees to finally pay attention to the full flesh of Yuuri’s tattooed ass cheeks.

It was _squeezing_ it between his fingers, digging his fingers and his nails in to leave half moons and a very shaken Yuuri. It was biting down hard, sucking and soothing with his tongue, driving Yuuri mad with puffs of air between his cheeks, licking in closer and closer until Yuuri was the one offering his hips back and begging. One of Yuuri’s favourite things that he’d never admit was Victor’s tongue between his legs. 

The scent of hotel room soap and clean skin beckoned him, Yuuri’s frustrated growls raised the hairs on his neck, Yuuri’s dripping cock on the other side of his body would make a mess of the glass in no time. Because Victor palmed Yuuri’s ass, spread his cheeks and swiped his tongue in one smooth motion right over the sensitive skin of Yuuri’s twitching hole.

“Don’t fucking stop there, Victor.” Yuuri grit out, panting against the glass as his hips quivered, as his knees buckled and then stood firm.

All Victor could do was grin, lecherous and shameless into Yuuri’s ass as he did as he was told, because nothing was better than making Yuuri scream.

Flat tongued and teasing, Victor laved his tongue over Yuuri’s hole over and over until it was wet and beautifully pink, he sucked at it, nibbled and licked again until Yuuri was grinding back onto Victor’s face, _keening_ for more. 

“Victorrr, come _on._ ” and he was pleading now, helpless with his arms supporting him against the window, his pleasure at the mercy of Victor on his knees behind him.

Pushing Yuuri to that point of frustration always went straight to Victor’s head, to his cock too, it was too good to hear how much Yuuri needed him, how much he needed Victor’s tongue to make him feel good, to make him _come._

That’s exactly what he did, he gave Yuuri what he wanted and pressed his tongue in, swirled it around as he sucked hard on the soft flesh. He opened his mouth wide, pushed his long tongue in as far as he could reach, Yuuri was tight after so long, hot and twitching and feeling good.

Yuuri’s hips moved faster and faster, rocking back against Victor’s tongue as he rambled unintelligible Japanese against the glass. And the pitch of Yuuri’s voice always climbed the closer he got to the edge, it was climbing now, higher with each moaning breath, it made Victor rough, hungry to hear more. Even he was struggling to breathe now, he was fought not to fuck thin air and come in his briefs, it was Yuuri he wanted to make come without touching his cock, not the other way around.

“Victor, yes… more, yessss.” Yuuri hissed, rolling his hips a few more times before his entire body quivered around Victor’s tongue, before it clenched tight as Yuuri came all over the glass in front of him in spurts of thick white come. 

Yuuri was still moaning, his hips still stuttering, still coming against the glass when Victor stood up, unable to wait any longer. He had two fingers in knuckle deep before Yuuri could even _miss_ Victor’s tongue, his teeth on the shell of Yuuri’s ear, “Sorry, love, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Hurry, fuck me rough then, come inside.” and Yuuri was chanting anew, his velvet tight hole sucking Victor’s fingers in, and Victor could only curse and slam his fingers in to open Yuuri up faster.

His fingers scissored, curled and circled until he added a third, normally he was more attentive than this, more diligent in preparing Yuuri after such a long time, but now he just wanted to bury his cock deep inside and come so hard that he couldn’t even fucking think straight.

Yuuri egged him on, clenched around his fingers, hot and inviting and Victor didn’t even think he was going to make it, balls tight, lungs burning, he could hardly wait to slam his hips home. 

“Just fuck me already!” and it was Yuuri who pushed him over the edge, who _told_ Victor to pull his own briefs down just enough to free himself so he could stroke his own slick down his thick length, he’d made a mess of himself and he hadn’t even fucking come yet.

The way Yuuri offered his ass back, hips out as he leant against the window was sinful, and that was all it took for Victor to fumble with his own cock between Yuuri’s cheeks before he finally took Yuuri’s hips in his hands and pressed the rounded head of his dick inside welcoming flesh. 

He gave Yuuri no time to brace himself further, Victor snapped his hips forward and buried himself balls deep on the first mind blowing thrust inside. The heat was _searing_ , gloriously tight and addictive as it all twitched around him, pulling him in even as he pulled out to slam his cock in again.

“Fuck.” he was wrecked already, groaning and sweating, chest flush with Yuuri’s back as he nipped the nape of Yuuri’s neck, “I’m gonna come already.” 

All Yuuri did was moan, lost in his own pleasure because he was already coming again, eyes shut in bliss, jaw slack, Victor watched it all in the glass and let himself be dragged under by Yuuri’s wanton display.

It took one last deep grind of his hips, one last pull of Yuuri’s insides over his cock and he was coming inside Yuuri. He could feel the heat of his own release, surrounding him as it spilled out around his cock, as his hips lost control and his nerves took over. He finished slow, held onto Yuuri’s hips to make it last, to groan Yuuri’s name into his ear before it all came to a halt.

They stood there catching their breath, speechless and numb in the wake of their own high, and it was then that Victor decided to tease Yuuri once more. He hadn’t pulled out yet, still half hard and deep inside, he leant over Yuuri’s shoulder with a smirk curling his lip.

“You came twice, did you miss me that much?” he kissed Yuuri’s cheek as he said it, smiled against his soft skin and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s midriff to hold him close.

Yuuri didn’t even have the gall to blush this time, he simply reached back and danced his fingers along Victor’s jaw, face honest, words blunt as he said: “I missed you so much so we’re not done yet.” 

* * *

The sun was just on the edge of the horizon when Victor woke the next morning, mind sharp but body sluggish with the exhaustion of the previous months and so much physical exertion.

In the mess of last night, in the sporadic fucking against the glass, on the bed, on the floor with the curtains open, somehow they’d managed to rip all the bed sheets and pillows off and pull them onto the floor in front of the come streaked window. 

So that’s where Victor was when he opened his eyes, _on_ a thick blanket on the floor with Yuuri draped over him like even in sleep he couldn’t bear to be apart yet. Yuuri slept on his front in between Victor’s legs, head resting on Victor’s stomach, face to the side to be lit up by the steadily rising sun.

If Victor thought he was a mess, then he didn’t know what Yuuri was. There were bite marks and hickeys all over both them, finger bruises and scratches, yet with Yuuri’s legs sprawled open, ass up and naked, Victor could see the sticky mess between his legs, down them and on the bed cover. 

Yuuri had asked to be ruined, he’d asked for Victor to come inside again and again, and Victor had done so with the greatest pleasure. It was a pleasure to wake up to, too. His marks all over Yuuri, inside and out. 

Victor sat up and leant back on his hands to survey his work, to look over Yuuri’s peacefully sleeping expression. Yuuri was out cold, so far beyond his own point of exhaustion that he wasn’t stirring even now as Victor moved. 

And once again the sight of Yuuri outshone the view of Tokyo city at dawn, that’s because Yuuri’s skin was draped over his, colour on plain skin, and Victor realised he was the perfect canvas to make Yuuri’s true beauty stand out with the sun highlighting them both. 

He played his fingers in Yuuri’s hair, the soft strands that’d been cut since the last time they met, just like he knew they would be. It was easy to listen to Yuuri’s light breathing, relaxing to feel the weight of Yuuri asleep in his lap. And there was that feeling again, the one that could only ever be felt, not described.

It’s not like he had anyone who he could describe it to, he didn’t have anyone he could tell about this magical moment here up high with the sky close enough to touch.

It was quiet up here on top of the world, a brooding peace that Victor knew couldn’t last just as day couldn’t because night always came. 

How many times would they go through this, Victor wondered, before one of them ended up dead? It wouldn’t take much, Victor could lose it again and kill himself in the process, he could put Yuuri in danger and inadvertently kill him instead, they could be found out and gunned down on the spot. 

They were all real possibilities that all had more chance of happening than a happy ending, their odds were fucked and there was nothing they could do about it. It would be faster and so much less painful to take his gun on the nightstand behind him and put an end to it all now, but that wasn’t even an option. 

There was no way out of this for either of them, and it was these moments of respite that reaffirmed Victor’s resolve, he didn’t care if there was a way out or not if he could have mornings like this. 

The sun spanned higher inch by inch, filling the room with the red colours of a new day, highlighting them both laying there on the floor surrounded by blankets and pillows. 

He looked at Yuuri asleep on top of him, the rise and fall of his breaths, the old battle scars and scarred knuckles, it was ridiculous to want to protect someone who didn’t need protecting. It was down right stupid of them both to keep going despite what they both knew was going to end in disaster. 

But as he played with Yuuri’s hair, Victor felt the rising sun warm his skin for the first time in what felt like an age, and he decided that if he couldn’t find a way out, then he would fucking make one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this interlude, it turned out much longer than I thought it would be, and I am so excited to get back to the main story in the next update.


	13. Guns For Show, Knives For A Pro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Signal the sirens, rally the troops. Ladies and gentlemen, it's the moment of truth._ \- BMTH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: before anyone gets confused, please remember this is picking up where chapter 9 left off. So we are back to the current timeline now. Thank you for waiting everyone.

It would be easy to think that everyone else in the house was asleep as Yuuri walked down the hall, dark, quiet, still. But in this house at this point in chaotic time, such thoughts would be naive, and Yuuri wouldn’t be worth the suit on his back. 

He knew he’d find someone waiting, keeping watch in case violence found them here before they were ready, it was exactly what Yuuri expected, what he _needed_ right now. What he wasn’t expecting however, was to find Minako and Otabek quietly talking in the kitchen, at ease with only the moonlight outside to dispel the building tension. It was the strangest sensation Yuuri would ever know, seeing someone from his life, his mother in every sense of the word but blood, interacting with someone from Victor’s life, with someone Victor had given his trust to. It was also one of the best feelings Yuuri would ever know, and even though the light was poor, even though it was all temporary for now, this peace, he would cherish the picture of it through the carnage to come. 

So he stood in the doorway to watch, to let it sink in, the fact that after nearly fifty years Minako had left the family all for Yuuri, she’d made the ultimate sacrifice in coming here, because she wouldn’t be forgiven by either side, and so the terror of losing someone was haunting him still. It was also naive, _unrealistic_ even, to expect to come out of this unscathed, without loss, and yet Yuuri was selfish enough to hope for it all the same. It was hard to think they couldn’t do it now, with Victor sleeping peacefully in their room, strong and whole in a way he’d never been before, with Yuuri who felt invincible with this burning conviction in his chest, with Minako and Otabek in front of him, with Yurio and Chris who all seemed to fit into this messed up puzzle in a way Yuuri had never predicted. 

Otabek seemed to take up all the space in the open plan kitchen, this looming figure with thick shoulders and a solid stance, dressed in black combat gear like he was ready for anything at any moment. Yuuri would use that state of preparedness, because he would be even more naive to go by himself on a job where the entire world outside this house was after him, and so with one last look at the odd picture before him, he stepped into the kitchen and made himself known.

It was the quiet shuffle of his footsteps as they both turned to him, nods of greeting in silence because there were much more important things to be said aloud instead. Minako looked him up and down in the darkness, looked at his face, his eyes, his set jaw and saw it all like only she could. She also saw that he was dressed for business, full three piece suit and polished shoes, brand new mask set on his face, and she smiled like Yuuri hadn’t just torn her whole life apart too.

“What is it?” was all she asked, observant as she leant back against the countertop.

“I got word from Phichit.” Yuuri explained, looking to them both and deciding that this was working out better than he’d thought it would already. “There are people in Bangkok.” 

He didn’t need to explain further, didn’t need to detail out what it meant, they both know the price on Yuuri’s head, and they both knew it was only a matter of time before someone found them, unless Yuuri found them first.

“How many?” Minako asked another question, tone blank as Otabek listened to the conversation with keen ears and an analysing eye.

“Six.” Yuuri deadpanned, in work mode well and truly now. 

He got no surprise or protests from either of them, only a smirk from Minako and a nod of approval from Otabek who’d already seen that Yuuri had made up his mind about this, that Yuuri wanted to strike first. 

“Only six?” Minako drawled, poking Yuuri in the chest with a stern finger like she always used to do when she berated Yuuri for mistakes, “If you get hurt, then you’ve let yourself go and it’s your own fault.”

And _god_ , it was good to talk to Minako like this after everything, good to be exactly how they were before Yuuri let Victor take him by the hand and run. So he smirked back to her then, more confident than he’d ever been because he finally had something to fight for.

“That’s what you always say.” Yuuri said, and it did feel just like every other time. Every other time Yuuri would be given a job, or a person to take out, Minako was always there, just like she was this time too.

“Because it’s true.” Minako gave him one last prod in the chest before she withdrew her hand, her expression turning sly as she moved onto her next topic, “So, things are more than okay with you and Victor then?” 

Otabek _laughed_ then, he chuckled as Yuuri lifted an eyebrow at Minako for bringing that up now of all times, he should have known, because Minako would always question his sex life.

“Sounded like it to me.” Otabek put in, not mocking or teasing as he laughed, but genuinely happy that things had worked out for Victor after the bomb that was Minako turning up.

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to laugh just then, because Minako’s eyes were still on him, they’d turned from playful curiosity into genuine concern, and now Yuuri knew why Minako was still up in the first place. She’d been worried that what she said might be too much for them, that Victor might have turned away from Yuuri after it was all said and done. Exhausted and weary as Yuuri knew she was, she’d stayed up to make sure it was all okay. Yuuri couldn’t fathom what he’d done to deserve someone in his life like this.

“Yeah,” Yuuri sighed in the end, “We’re okay.” 

And then Minako smiled for real, a small curve of her lip along with this glisten in her eye as she grasped Yuuri by the shoulder and squeezed, “Good.”

Silence said the rest as they all stood there, comprehending all that had happened, and all that would happen next.

“You’re ready for this?” came the next question from Minako eventually, “Ready to let everyone know where you are?”

Because this is what it all really meant, like that age old metaphor of moths to a flame, Yuuri would bring them all in with an obvious declaration of war, and then they would all burn.

“There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.” Yuuri stated, blood simmering with renewed determination as he looked to Otabek then, “You coming?”

And all Otabek did was nod once more, mouth set grim, eyes hard, “I’ll drive.”

Minako still had her hand on his shoulder, still squeezing with worry and pride and every emotion a mother could possibly feel at a time like this.

“Watch the house.” Yuuri said, because while he was gone, she was the only person he’d trust to look after the person currently sleeping at the other end of the hall, _look after Victor._ And even thinking that felt foreign, after all only hours before this Yuuri had been beaten down by panic and fear with the thought that Minako would kill Victor instead. They would never be friends or family, but at least now they weren’t enemies.

“With my life.” Minako replied in kind, open and honest in a rare show of how much she really cared.

Yuuri knew she would do exactly what she said too, not for Victor’s sake, but Yuuri’s.

* * *

The driveway had three cars in it now, the one they’d used to get here, the station wagon like the one they’d trashed in St Petersburg that Otabek drove here with Chris, and a black small coupe that Yuuri knew Minako must have retrieved from wherever she parked it before breaking into the house. 

The cars adding up was like this addition to their team, the more people that joined them, the more vehicles and space their group seemed to take up. It _felt_ as if they were building their own entourage, and whether Yuuri was getting ahead of himself or not, it felt right.

Without a word, Otabek unlocked the car with the remote for them both to get in, the silence interrupted by car doors opening and closing, the atmosphere heavy, they both knew what was coming, they both knew this was as calm as it was going to be from here on out.

Even the dull growl of the engine did nothing to push back the tension, the bright headlights blaring as Otabek reversed down the driveway did nothing about the dark encroaching from all sides, it was going to be a long two hours back to Bangkok from Phichit’s beach house.

Otabek, stoic and composed, seemed content with silence as the night rushed past them on the winding roads, handling the car with ease, eyes everywhere at once like only a trained man’s were. 

“How long have you known Victor?” Yuuri cut into the quiet, taking this chance to learn more about the person that Victor had who was closest to a friend. 

“My entire twenty six years of life.” Otabek replied without looking away from the road, tone blank, factual.

_That_ surprised Yuuri, that Otabek was two years older than he was, that Otabek had known Victor for longer, that Otabek was that close to Victor, and yet Victor hadn’t told him anything.

“Our families, what was left of his and mine, have always cooperated.” Otabek went on to explain, still in that factual drawl, empty of emotion, “My father was killed in the mess between his family and yours.” 

The fact that Otabek talked about it so easy did nothing to soften the impact of what he said, did nothing to stop Yuuri realising how everyone was involved in this one way or another, that maybe after twenty five years this was meant to happen. Yuuri hated that word, _fate_ , things only happened because of your own actions after all, but it was hard to describe it as anything else. 

So he sat in silence as Otabek continued on about how he knew Victor Nikiforov.

“After that incident, my family decided it was better to do mercenary work instead of affiliating with a single family. I still went to the same school as Victor when we were kids, we had the same training, and eventually when I was old enough, I was contracted by Victor for jobs too.” it sounded melancholy and reminiscent as Otabek took himself back in time to tell Yuuri about the past, “I’ve known him my whole life, and all this time I thought he hated your family with a passion. That look in his eyes…” 

“My family, maybe.” Yuuri offered, thoughtful as he saw it all play out in the dull reflection of Otabek’s eyes.

“Not you though.” Otabek gave an empty laugh, turning the wheel around a sharp bend, eyes still roving where the lights from the car touched, “Everything makes so much more sense now. It was never hate with you, was it?” 

And there was this disbelief in Otabek’s eyes now, like he should have seen it for what it was this whole time, like he of all people should have known, like it was obvious now that he knew. The thing was though, that if Victor wanted to keep a secret from you, there was no way you were ever going to find out. 

“Not one single day.” the only thing he could give to Otabek now was the truth. Yuuri looked at the black and white scenery blurring past, the moon overhead, the stars piercing through the cloud cover, and was happy not to lie anymore. Each truth was this unspoken weight off his chest, five years worth of untold secrets that he could finally tell. 

“Like I mentioned when we first met, _’Don’t forget what it is you want. Only you can make it a reality,’_ he said that to me a couple of years ago when we were taking down the Suwabe family.” shaking his head with a haunted expression, Otabek’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, “And that was the moment I knew I never wanted to make any enemy of Victor in my life.”

Those words were like a physical blow, this knife in his gut as he was once more forced to think about how bad things had nearly gone, as he thought about the truths they’d both been forced to face, the hopelessness that still tried to curl its fingers around him even now. 

“How was he, back then?” he knew it was the only chance he would ever get to ask someone else about how Victor really was, despite the face Victor had tried to show him.

And Otabek _flinched_ , brows pinching, jaw clenching, eyes hardening as he a avoided looking in Yuuri’s direction altogether. “That’s not a question you want the answer to.” 

Yuuri let it drop then, because it was the answer he’d expected, and the answer he hated most despite it all being over, despite the fact that he was still with Victor now, nearly free. And so he switched to that agenda instead, the notion of freedom and this being over once and for all.

“Otabek,” Yuuri questioned, looking ahead at the road still, his mind racing faster than the speed they were going, “I have a job for you.”

The unease was instant, the uncertainty in his reaction as Otabek flicked his eyes to the side to look at Yuuri for the first time since they’d sat in the car, because Otabek knew what this was at least.

“What would you have me do?” Otabek asked nonetheless, composure back in his face like it’d never slipped at all. And Yuuri was thankful at least that Victor had someone in his life like this, dependable, trust worthy. 

“If anything happens, if we get ambushed, or taken, or split up, I want you to look out for Victor before anything else.” even speaking the words made him feel nauseous, the mere thought that things _might_ go that wrong, the fact that it was a possibility of all things. And so he found himself gripping the hilt of his knife up his sleeve, needing to get rid of the building adrenaline in his chest.

“He would kill me if I saved him and not you.” was all Otabek said, knuckles white on the steering wheel, conflicted.

“He can’t kill you if he’s the one that’s dead.” Yuuri deadpanned, hating the fact that he even had to say the words out loud, because speaking it was like making the chance that it might happen even more real. As much as being cradled in Victor’s arms made him feel like they could do anything, as much as holding Victor in his made him feel like he could fight the world and win, Yuuri wasn’t stupid, it was time to start being realistic. They’d been playing with fire for far too long.

And sometimes silence was such a disgusting sound, Yuuri thought, because instead of disagreeing, instead of denying the possibility of disaster, all Otabek did was grit his teeth and nod in acceptance of the hardest job he’d probably ever have. 

“I guess Minako will be there too, for you.” Otabek said as reassurance, because if they were split, if for some reason they couldn’t save each other, then Victor had Otabek and the rest, and Yuuri had Minako who was formidable enough on her own, determined enough, _selfness_ enough. And yet the last thing it was for Yuuri was reassuring.

“If the worst happens, then she has bigger things to worry about.” the words came out cold, empty as Yuuri tried to bury his feelings in the place that wouldn’t interfere, now more than ever he had to steel himself. 

Once again, Otabek said nothing. The only sound for the longest time was the noise of the tyres on the road and the engine as they got closer to the location that Phichit messaged through to Yuuri before they left.

They were in the thick of the city, the traffic still busy, the night well and truly alive despite the hour when Yuuri finally decided to ask the question that’d been posed in the long stretch of quiet during the drive. “How do you think this will end, Otabek?” 

They stopped at a set of lights in their sleek black station wagon, motor rumbling, a veritable arsenal of weapons on each of their person, so different to the car full of young party kids that pulled up next to them. Their thumping music, crazy hair colours and carefree laughter, Yuuri watched them snap away on their phones and laugh at whatever jokes were told, clueless to the monsters next to them that were Otabek and Yuuri. They were probably around the same age as too, and yet the difference couldn’t be more black and white.

“I don’t know.” The lights turned green, Otabek shifted into gear as he answered, pensive in his honesty as they drew closer and closer to their destination, “I’m only glad I made the choice to follow you two after all.” 

Phichit had already said in his last message that they were heading into a district that was less than respectable, cheap hotels, bad drugs and even worse sex sold for more than it was worth. Yuuri wanted to be in and out as fast as he could so he could be on his way back to Victor to spend the last moments of calm with him before chaos overtook them all. 

“Why is that?” Yuuri asked, absentminded as the meters ticked down on the GPS unit built into the dash. They were nearly there, at the trigger that would set this all off, and Yuuri’s blood was _burning_.

He was oblivious to Otabek’s eyes on him now, unheeding of the uneasy expression on the mercenary’s face, not at what was to come, but at Yuuri himself sitting in the passenger seat with his eyes glued to the building ahead of them where the beginning of the end waited.

“Because you have the same look on your face as he did then, the one that scared even me.” Otabek answered, uncertain how his reply would be taken.

All Yuuri could do was huff a mirthless laugh as their car slowed further, he couldn’t picture himself being half as terrifying as Victor as far as appearances went. “There you go again, saying stuff I don’t hear very often.” 

Otabek smirked back nonetheless, “I have a feeling you’ll be hearing things you don’t hear often a few times more before this is all said and done.” 

“I don’t doubt that for one second.” Yuuri mused as the car stopped down a dreary side street, buildings loomed with flickering signage, cables and cables of exposed electrical wiring went from building to building, rubbish on the side walk. It was the sort of setting that had Yuuri instantly question the capability of the people that were here trying to find him.

“Shall we get this done then, boss?” Otabek looked over at him, tease glinting in his eyes as he said yet another thing Yuuri wasn’t expecting to hear.

“Now I know why you’re Victor’s friend.” Yuuri noted aloud, sarcastic as he checked all his weapons one more time before giving the nod, “Let’s go.”

* * *

Sirens sounded in the distance, echoing this solemn howl through the city as the two of them circled the building once to evaluate the area, two pairs of hands at the ready, senses on high alert in darkness as their silent steps took them back to the entrance of the dingy apartment. 

Otabek fell into his roll without hesitation, watching the path in front while Yuuri kept an eye out behind them. It was almost startling how effortless it was, how _secure_ it felt to have Otabek at his back, something Yuuri never let anyone but himself guard on a job. Yet Otabek’s military background exuded all the assurance that Yuuri needed.

He had Phichit to thank for such thorough information, the building, floor and apartment number would be right, there’s no way his friend would give him the wrong information when it was vital that everything went right for them now more than ever. Phichit would have double and triple checked all his means of information, and so they headed into the building and made their way up the stairs to the second floor with hand signals and taps on the shoulder as their only means of communication.

With the smell of impending bloodshed heavy in the air, every nerve in his body ready, Yuuri pulled the pair of tanto knives Victor had given him from their sheaths strapped up his sleeves and let Otabek knock, three gentle taps on the door that didn’t have a peep hole to spy through.

And maybe the people here weren’t that useless at all, since the sound of the deadbolt sliding across answered them heartbeats later, someone was standing guard on the other side of the door at this time of night, not that it would make a difference for whoever was inside in the end.

From here, it would be all over in the space of seconds, or so Otabek and Yuuri planned together. With backs pressed flat against the wall either side of the door, the halogen tubes on the ceiling ticking with dancing light, the door with peeling paint creaked on its hinges as it was pulled open. And Yuuri had given them more credit than they deserved, because the black haired Korean, short and stocky, didn’t wait to come outside into the hall, didn’t poke his head out, he stepped straight out and left himself wide open.

The first man was dead before he could even take a breath, before Otabek could move, before he even hit the ground. This was Yuuri’s forte after all, the silent unsuspecting kill, it’d taken only one step, one twist of his body and he had his knife buried to the hilt under that sweet spot in everyone’s ribcage that went straight to the heart. 

One quiet gasp as life left lungs and there was blood on Yuuri’s hands already, pulsing from the wound around his knife, warmth mixing with his fingers as the body went slack. Otabek was there to catch it before it toppled, before the unmistakable noise of a corpse hitting the ground could give them away any sooner. 

They exchanged a glance as Otabek lowered the body to the floor without a sound, one flick of Yuuri’s hand to indicate he was going in, and one nod from Otabek that he would be right behind him.

From there, it was a short burst of chaos as Yuuri entered the hall and came face to face with someone who was no doubt coming to check on their comrade. And it was seeing realisation turn to alarm, to terror as Katsuki Yuuri paced down the hall, knives in hand without hesitation.

Uncontrolled fear made people stupid and clumsy, it also made them loud. Yuuri cursed under his breath as the second man let out a shout and fumbled with his own weapon before Yuuri could kill him. 

The silent approach was over, Yuuri slipped one knife back up his sleeve and reached in his jacket for a gun instead. By now, Yuuri’s fire, all his will power and drive was boiling over, searing his throat, seizing his heart, and all he could think about was Victor, sleeping peacefully back at that beach house with that look of happiness on his face. 

Yuuri would kill the world over just so Victor kept that look on his face, and he would start with the person in front of him. It was funny, the feeling in his body only took hold of him when he thought about Victor, when he _fought_ for Victor, just like he was now.

He was on body number two before the person even realised they were going to die, stabbing a knife right in the throat without mercy, leaning into the body as it slumped against him to use it as that age old tactic of human shield. Otabek was right behind him, and they only had one way to go, the open archway to their left where shouts were pouring from, curses and the noise of scrambled panic. 

Rookies.

“I’ll take right.” Yuuri stated, throwing the body in front of him to gauge the resulting reaction. There were no bullets flying, no knee jerk gunshots, and they were still naive enough to think they could take Yuuri alive.

“Left for me then.” Otabek countered after he watched the display, his broad back pressed against Yuuri’s as they both stepped in to deal with the remaining four.

Time was ticking now, the commotion would have been heard through the paper thin walls of the shabby apartment building, even though no gunfire had gone off, the sounds of dying men were still alarming enough.

Behind him, reaction speed lightning fast, Yuuri heard Otabek fire two shots, one for each man on his side of the small room with mouldy walls and threadbare carpet. There was no furniture in the way in the living room, one couch in the corner with messy blankets and loose bullets on the floor next to it. It smelt of cigarettes and poor organisation, and Yuuri snarled at the insult that people like this thought they could take him.

These people weren’t worth the bullet it took to kill them with, it would have been so _good_ to put his knives to a proper test again, but they were already pushing time as it was. Only heartbeats after Otabek’s own gunfire, Yuuri fired a single shot right between the eyes of one, and grit his teeth as he realised he needed to leave the last man alive.

Some credit was due, because even though the last Korean in a plain white shirt and black track pants had let his gun clatter to the ground, even though he’d put his hands up and surrendered, he hadn’t pissed himself, he wasn’t begging, and he wasn’t avoiding the look in Yuuri’s eyes as Yuuri approached with Otabek still on red alert behind him.

“Do you understand me?” Yuuri drawled, stepping over an arm on the floor to bring the point of his knife to the last man’s throat.

The room was crowded even with the three of them alive, the shadowed doorway in the corner of the room that led to the kitchen beyond no where near close enough for any sort of escape. His blood was starting to cool, heart slowing down to the pace it should be going, it was nearly done, and all Yuuri wanted to do was go back to where Victor was.

“Yes.” it was shaky as best, rasped from a dry throat and a nervous belly, but it was clear. 

“And what’s my name?” Yuuri asked, listening to Otabek check the bodies, the hallway and the door that led to the kitchen just in case.

“K-katsuki Yuuri.” and the man’s courage was fading, he was backing himself into the wall, slumping against it while he waited for the blow that would never come.

“Good.” Yuuri nodded once, feeling Otabek tap on his shoulder to let him know the rest of the apartment was clear. It was already starting to reek with that iron tang of blood and panic instead of poor organisation, and Yuuri counted himself lucky that Seung-gil wasn’t the one here in Bangkok. “Make sure to use that name when you tell everyone what happened here.” 

* * *

They made it out of the building and into the car without crossing paths with anyone, either people were too scared to open their doors and check, or they really didn’t care at all.

It made no difference in the end, they were on the road, and the drive back felt like an age compared to the drive into the city. How Yuuri had gone days, weeks, _months_ on occasion without seeing Victor was laughable now, it’d been four hours, and Yuuri already couldn’t wait to see him again.

They’d dragged this out for five years, another day away was too much to think about, all Yuuri wanted to do was squeeze those five years into whatever they had left, and then, after this, he wanted to spend every day for the next five years with Victor by his side.

Purple and red streaked the sky as the sun came up, stars melted away with the sun’s touch, and there was no conversation in the car this time to distract them from their thoughts. They’d set the ball rolling, and no amount of conversation could distract anyone from that.

So Yuuri counted down, he watched the sun rise higher, and knew that despite how tired Victor was, he would already be awake. He thought about Victor waking up alone in their bed, the sheets cold beside him like so many lonely nights before. And Yuuri told himself there would be no more mornings like that.

The panic was still there as he thought about Victor getting up to find Minako in the kitchen, that fear would always be buried deep, covered by the fresh knowledge that he at least knew they weren’t going to kill each other, even if it was just for Yuuri’s sake. He thought about Minako telling Victor where Otabek and Yuuri had gone, and he thought about Victor waiting for them to get back.

Victor would be counting down just the same as Yuuri was, waiting while pretending like he wasn’t, just like he had been for the last five years. 

* * *

It was just before 7am when they pulled up the driveway, Yuuri was out of the car before the engine stopped running. This wasn’t a time for composure or a controlled expression, the feeling in his heart was like all those times he’d been reunited with Victor condensed into this one single moment.

It’d always been just the two of them before, locked away in a lavish hotel room that felt like they were in another dimension away from reality, there were people here this time, and Yuuri hardly even noticed.

Victor was the first out of the back door, walking down the steps with that smile that promised the world on his face, and this must be what having someone to come home to felt like. 

They were _outside_ under the morning sky, the air crisp, gulls screeching overhead as they flew to the beach, and Yuuri was grateful for all of it as his steps brought him face of face with Victor in the driveway with three cars in it.

Otabek was out of the car behind him, everyone else filed out of the house, Yurio, Chris, and lastly, Minako who stood at the top of the steps and watched something she’d very nearly ruined not even a day beforehand.

It was the press of foreheads then as their bodies came together, Victor’s hands found his hips as they always did and pulled him closer, and Yuuri would never get tired of this. He’d never get tired of looking into the eyes that he’d happily let consume him, he’d never cease to wonder about Victor’s brilliant smile, and he’d always find it more than he deserved because Victor looked back at him like Victor was thinking the exact same thing about him too.

“You left me again, Yuuri.” Victor pouted by way of greeting, jutting out his bottom lip that was healing from the day before, eyes cheeky as he moved his hands up to cup Yuuri’s cheeks instead.

The touch was warm, gentle like it always had been, it was forgiving and welcoming and only Victor could give him all those things. 

“I’m sorry.” it wasn’t something Yuuri needed to say, he knew, Victor trusted his judgment just like Yuuri trusted his, and still he sighed it against Victor’s lips nonetheless. 

Victor just hummed as they stood there on the spot with everyone watching, pout curving into a smile as they finally showed themselves to the world. “It’s okay, love. Though I’m jealous Otabek got to see you in action and I didn’t.” 

“Pfft.” Yuuri chuckled despite himself, clutched at Victor’s clean white shirt with the blood dried on his hands, “You’ll have plenty of chances to see me in action soon, Victor.”

“So you’re really sure about this, Yuuri?” and Victor didn’t hesitate to talk about the reason Yuuri had left the house in the first place, the question had probably been on his mind since the moment he woke up.

Yuuri didn’t have to think about this answer, didn’t have to agonise over it or panic over it, he’d made up his mind, and now he wanted everyone to know. “I don’t want to hide away with you anymore.” 

And like he’d just been given the best news a man could hope for, like he’d been given the stars and the moon, Victor shut his eyes as he smiled again, breath leaving him in a rush as he kissed Yuuri on the forehead and mumbled against Yuuri’s skin. “Soon, love, it will all be over.” 

* * *

Just as Yuuri thought it would, the news of his excursion with Otabek travelled fast, because it was only twelve hours later, 7pm and in bed with Victor already that his phone beeped and vibrated on the nightstand next to him.

It was ominous, the way his screen flashed under the lamplight, the rest of the room dark as the curtains shut out the waning evening light. 

Victor’s warm hand took his and squeezed as Yuuri picked the phone up, he pulled it up to his face to kiss Yuuri’s knuckles one by one as Yuuri swiped across on the screen and put the phone to his ear. And even if he tried to tell himself he was ready, no one could ever really be ready. 

“Phichit?” Yuuri answered, wishing that they’d had at least a few more hours before that phone had gone off.

_”They're coming, Yuuri.”_ once again his friend delivered the news without preamble. He sounded _stressed_ and anxious and worse than when he’d rung to say Minako was on the way. 

And suddenly Victor was squeezing his hand tight all over again, grip tight as he went off Yuuri’s reaction that was his entire body tense on the bed, unmoving.

"Who?"

_”The Russians. Yakov Feltsman, Georgi Popovich. Your family… Yuuri, even your father is on the move.”_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr! [here](http://captain-erwinmerica.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Devil's Water](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625097) by [Garden_Beast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garden_Beast/pseuds/Garden_Beast)
  * [Masquerade: Side Stories and Extras](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856394) by [Ashida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida)
  * [In Devil's Teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164353) by [Ashida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida)
  * [I'll Follow You Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705904) by [Grinner_H](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H)
  * [A Day Like No Other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714022) by [Ashida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/pseuds/Ashida)




End file.
